Hatred is the madness of the heart
by aquamarine-jo
Summary: We know who made Cutler but what made him? How did he end up with such a burning desire to be the history maker?
1. 1952

We know who made Cutler but _what_ made him? How did he end up with such a burning desire to be the history maker?

This is Cutler way back when, 1950s Cutler and at the moment it's just one chapter to see how it works; there may be more. I'd like to check in on him every decade to see how he changed to become the Cutler we saw in series 4 but – as always - it all depends on the voices!

All thoughts and comments welcome!

* * *

><p><strong>Hatred is the madness of the heart...<strong>

**1952**

He watched from his usual place. The table near the door. Not quite in the corner, not quite in the room, not quite anything at all.

He watched. Hoping not to be noticed and wishing that someone would. Hoping that someone would but terrified for when it happened.

He reached out for the glass of whisky he'd been nursing for over an hour, seeing his hand shake. He clenched his fist, concentrating on quenching the need, the desire that stalked him but when his fingers steadied he picked up the glass and drained it. The whisky helped, it built a disconnection from everything that had happened - was still happening - but it was a fine line. He closed his eyes, feeling the glow of the alcohol, sitting back in his chair and allowing himself to relax. He wished he could keep hold of the comforting darkness but he knew that one more drink or any attempt to sleep, would paint pictures in his mind in ever more vivid colour and detail. He'd never be able to forget.

But just for a moment there was some kind of peace.

It couldn't last. He heard a chair scrape on the wooden floor, felt cold fingers take the crystal glass out of his hand and he sighed and opened his eyes, sitting up straight.

"You don't seem pleased to see me." The voice was level, impossible to read. "I'm hurt."

Hal snapped his fingers and the whisky glass was refilled. He pushed it across the table, that half smile on his face that Cutler dreaded. He kept his hands under the table, not wanting to show Hal that they were shaking, pointless as it was to try to hide anything from him.

"Drink it."

The smile had gone. Hal had heard the sigh and he would punish him for it. No. Not for the sigh but just because he could. It amused him. He pushed the glass a little closer, his eyes hard and Cutler lifted one hand, the tremor worse under that cold scrutiny. He heard a muffled laugh, a whispered comment from the men watching as he forced himself to pick up the glass and lift it to his mouth, hearing the crystal rattle against his teeth as he drank down the contents. Hal had the glass filled three more times and each time Cutler drained it while Hal watched, a smile slowly forming, a cruel smile, he knew what the alcohol would do. He stood up and looked down at Cutler.

"Come. Sit with me. All this skulking in corners, one would assume you were ashamed of something."

It wasn't a request, it was an order and Cutler got to his feet, his head swimming slightly from the whisky. Hal walked ahead of him to the best table in the room, the one right beside the cage and the one that was always his. No one dared to sit at Hal's table unless invited. If he were absent then his table remained empty. Cutler followed him, Hal's acolytes behind him and they sniggered when he stumbled. The whisky was biting away at his control, he could feel it slipping, feel the cravings coming back. He sat beside Hal, his gaze fixed on the table top where yet another glass appeared. He reached out without thinking, noticing without much interest that now his hands were steady. He drank again and as he lowered the glass he heard a heartbeat, a pulse, which seemed strangely familiar. At the next table there were women – human women – and his eye fixed on a glorious head of blonde curls, casually piled up above pale shoulders.

"Rachel"

He didn't realise he had spoken aloud until he heard Fergus laugh.

He started to stand so he could to go to her, it had been so long but he swayed and Hal caught his arm, stopping him from falling.

"Ah. I see you have spotted Marie. I thought she might be to your taste."

Hearing her name the women turned and he realised his mistake – it wasn't her. How could it be? This woman's face was hard, after all what nice girls would be drinking here? Surrounded by strange men, dressed to the nines and expecting to watch a bare-knuckle fight, they had no idea what they were really here for. No matter. To some of them it was an adventure, to others merely a business transaction.

Cutler fell back into his chair, reaching for the whisky. There was no point in stopping now, it was already too late and he had a good idea of what Hal was going to do. If he got even drunker maybe it would be more bearable, even though every mouthful of spirits made the heartbeat louder and more intense. It was deafening, drowning out all attempts at rational thought. And now he could smell it. Hot and coppery, salty and rich – he could almost taste it.

He jumped as someone touched his arm, spilling his drink and hearing the men laugh again at his awkwardness. Marie was pulling a chair close beside him, threading her arm through his and leaning close. He could smell her skin and her blood under the scent she wore and she smiled at him.

"Marie, this is Nick." Hal was sat opposite with a girl on each side of him, charming them effortlessly as he always did. Until he got bored. "I want you to take very good care of him."

Cutler wanted to pull away from her, from the heat of her skin and the promises in her eyes. Beyond Hal, at the next table he could see Fergus and his pals watching him and despite the drink and the scent of blood hazing his mind, eroding his will, he wanted to run. But he didn't dare. Not while Hal was watching.

He looked at Marie, she was chattering, garrulous with champagne and something else, something chemical. It amused Hal to let his men drug the women they found for these evenings, it made them compliant and uninhibited, not that it mattered that much as they had their ways of getting what they wanted from them but Hal liked to observe their reactions. He took pleasure from the casual cruelty, even though he was the very worst of all. Cutler drank one more glass of whisky, promising himself it would be the last one, not that he had any choice; he had to play the game. He put his arm around Marie, pulling her closer, burying his face in her hair. It smelt of hairspray and smoke and that helped. Rachel's hair had smelled fresh and clean, like summer days and he pushed away the painful memories before they could take hold. His hand moved over her shoulder to her neck, finding the pulse that was beating faster and faster and it took every bit of the control he had left not to dig his nails into her skin and tear it apart. He knew that Hal was watching and he had to behave as was expected of him or face the consequences later so he lifted Marie's face up to his and kissed her, tasting her heavy lipstick and the traces of her last cigarette. She was practised and knowing, slipping her hand under the table, working clever fingers up his thigh and despite himself his hold on her tightened. The cravings were rising and he knew he was losing control, he closed his eyes so she wouldn't see what he really was but his fangs grazed her lip and he tasted blood. His mind flashed blinding white at the taste, he wanted – he needed – more but some last vestige of his horror at what he had become pulled him back and he let her go.

"Careful darling, why such a rush?" She opened her bag, dabbing her lip with a handkerchief and checking her lipstick in her compact mirror. "Anyone would think you hadn't had a woman in years" She put her hand up to his face, running her fingers over his mouth. "I don't believe that for a moment, pretty boy like you!"

She clicked shut the compact and took out a cigarette, holding out her lighter to him. Obediently, slightly dazed, he lit it for her and she settled back against him. He lit a cigarette for himself, sometime the tobacco helped him stay focused and he looked through the smoke to where Hal was sitting. Although apparently fully occupied with the two women he hadn't missed a thing and he smiled at Cutler, he knew how close he had come and his struggle entertained him. He enjoyed watching him fall, further and further every time.

There was a commotion across the room and the atmosphere changed, the vampires grew quiet and watchful. The few human guests turned to watch and their faces became puzzled as two men were pushed into the cage and the door clanged shut behind them, bolts and padlocks secured and checked. These were not boxers of any kind. One man was dressed in a suit, torn at the shoulder and he had the beginnings of a black eye. The other, tall and well built, was wearing just a shabby pair of trousers, his feet bare. While the other cowered in the corner this man prowled back and forth, the lights shining on his skin showing livid scars, scratch marks underneath fresh bruises.

Cutler watched the werewolf and the pitiful human. He knew what their fate was and his stomach turned. He hated the fights but he had to be here, Hal would brook no argument, no pleas of prior arrangements were acceptable. Unlike the others the violence and the torn flesh revolted him, even as the scent of the blood drew him in.

Marie was excited, her eyes shining and she was still talking, telling him about the boxing matches she'd been to, the other fights she'd seen. He wanted to tell her to go, that this was something different but he daren't speak. He could already taste the whisky he'd drunk, sour at the back of this throat. The other vampires were animated, exchanging money as they laid bets on how long the human would last and on something else – he couldn't quite hear what - and he knew he should at least attempt to join in.

There was an agonised cry as the transformation began and the room fell silent as they watched. As the werewolf fell and writhed and changed the noise built again – even the women were screaming although they didn't fully understand what they were seeing. Only Cutler sat still and silent, not wanting to watch but unable to look away. He tried to concentrate, take deep breaths. This time he would not disgrace himself. This time he would be fine. He wouldn't let Hal down.

The wolf was fully transformed; leaping across the cage and the sound of tearing flesh was too much. Clapping his hand over his mouth Cutler got up and ran.

He vomited over and over again; retching until his throat was raw, wishing he could expel all the horror, everything that made him what he had become. Eventually he straightened up, pushing his hair back where it had fallen over his forehead, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He took off his jacket and his tie and undid his collar – he hated being trussed up in suits but it wasn't done to appear less than formally dressed. All of Hal's group were immaculately turned out, he insisted on it. Cutler had never liked formal clothes although he accepted their place in his work; it was part of his need for acceptance. Rachel had always been tidying him up, tutting at his tendency to pull at his tie and his collar without realising and the memory made him smile. Although she would reknot his tie and button his shirt properly she would always finish by rumpling his hair, messing up the neat parting. She had always preferred his hair unruly and untidy; telling him it brought back happy memories.

He walked out of the alleyway wondering what would happen when he went back inside, what ridicule there would be. He pulled himself upright, stiffened his shoulders and his resolve and was about to face it when a movement made him turn.

"You are a disgrace." Hal was standing behind him and he was smiling, taking the sting out of his words. "You should be used to this life by now. Where do you think the blood you are so fond of comes from?" He sounded almost sorrowful and Cutler relaxed. When Hal was his friend he was the best friend you could ever have.

"I... I don't know. I'm sorry." Hal handed him a small flask and Cutler unscrewed the top, it was brandy. He took a sip to rinse his mouth of the aftertaste of his revulsion, spitting it out before gulping down several mouthfuls.

"Don't be sorry. I won £500 on you – that was the longest you've lasted yet" Hal laughed and Cuter hesitantly joined in. "I shouldn't be so hard on you. This life isn't the same for all of us; all you need to do is find your own way."

It sounded too good to be true and suddenly Cutler was suspicious.

"I brought you a present"

Hal reached out and pulled Marie from the shadows. She looked unsteady, her eyes unfocused, she was very drunk and Hal pushed her suddenly at Cutler. He had no choice but to catch her and she wrapped herself around him. He could smell blood and without realising what he was doing his mouth found her throat and the two small wounds oozing blood. Someone had already fed. His whole being cried out to do the same, his mind focused on the blood and he was helpless to resist. His tongue traced the wounds, tasted the blood and he knew his eyes were black. He let reason flee as he drove his fangs into Marie's neck.

The blood was hot and wonderful, the feeling of ecstasy that he had tried to forget about, the way he could lose himself in the taste and the heat. The blood from a living body, there was nothing else like it, it felt like coming home.

The sound of Hal's mocking laughter broke through the joy of the blood and his eyes cleared. He dragged his mouth away and let Marie's body fall. She crumpled but she was still breathing, and he looked in horror at the tears in her neck, retching at the thought of what he had done. Again.

He backed away but Hal had hold of his arm and he wasn't laughing any more.

"Kill her"

"I can't... I just can't"

"Do as you are told. Just fucking kill her"

"I... No... I really can't."

He knew he couldn't. The blood called to him, it always would, the urge for it consumed every atom of his being but he would suffer and burn without it forever if it meant he needn't kill.

"You can't leave her there. Kill her and I will have Fergus deal with the body."

Hal pushed Cutler so he was on his knees beside Marie. She was still bleeding, a pool of sticky blood forming under her head, the wounds still seeping and he closed his eyes, tried to block the scent. It didn't work, it made it worse and he opened them again, looking at Marie, staring until his vision blurred and her limp body changed. Now it was Rachel he could see – his beloved Rachel, dead, her throat torn out by the man standing beside him. The taste of her blood still in his mouth.

He grabbed her shoulders, shook her, willing her to open her eyes and look at him.

"Rachel, wake up, come back" he shouted at her, louder and louder, and when her head fell back and her last breath sighed he howled in anguish for the life he'd lost.

The life that Hal had stolen from him.

* * *

><p><em>He'd known Rachel all his life. Well, not really known her. Her parents lived in the big house near the park and every morning he watched her walk across the lawns in her school pinafore and perfect white blouse, blond plaits swinging under her straw hat, an air of sunshine and privilege all around her. She always smiled at him, the shy, shabby boy with the unruly hair and the bright blue eyes, hiding by the gates, not daring to speak to her or even smile back.<em>

_Cutler's family lived in one of the tiny terraced houses near the station where his father shovelled coal for the trains. He never went hungry but with six children to fed and clothe his father worked all the hours he could and his mother did piecework at night. All the children were loved but attention was in short supply and expectations were as low as the contents of the family savings tin on the mantelpiece. Despite their good intentions Cutler knew that his parents didn't understand him and his need to make someone of himself. School was his escape, when he was reading his shabby hand-me-down clothes were forgotten as he imagined being someone, someone different. Once he tried to tell his father about his dreams but he didn't understand. He had a plan for his four boys – they would work with him in the railway yards, it was honest hard labour and Cutler couldn't bring himself to tell him how much he hated the idea._

_He was lucky though and one of his teachers took an interest in him. He pushed him and encouraged him and with the help of a small scholarship and against his parents' wishes he continued with his education._

_He was clever and quick and desperate to prove himself and slowly his confidence grew and he smiled back at Rachel. He never looked at another girl and by the time he was 17 they were walking out and when he was 20 they were married. It was hard for them to manage while he was studying but her father helped. Despite his misgivings about the match he admired Cutler's ambition and it was impossible to doubt his love for his treasured only child. He pulled strings so that Cutler could study law, a childhood brush with TB that had killed his youngest sister left a loophole and his father in law had him declared unfit for the army. He wasn't comfortable with the help or the deception, nor with the fact that they lived in a house he couldn't afford but he knew one day he could pay it all back. He was top of his class and he had earned that on his own merits, he was being noticed and talked about as a rising star. That really mattered, that was what was important to him, what he'd dreamed of for all those years._

_Although he would have given it all up in an instant if Rachel had asked him to. They spent every moment they could together and their few close friends laughed affectionately at them, at their devotion to each other to the exclusion of everything else. One of Rachel's old friends called Cutler uxorious and while he smiled he had to look it up later, he was still learning and hated it when he got caught out. "Describes a man who is excessively devoted to or submissive to his wife" and he smiled again. How could he ever be excessively devoted to Rachel? She was his world._

_He had no problems finding work, by 1950 his name was being mentioned as someone who was going places and the only sadness in his life was that he and Rachel had no children. Maybe it wasn't meant to be, no one could be due any more happiness than they already had together._

_And then he met Hal._

* * *

><p>"Do you want me to do something with that?"<p>

Fergus' contemptuous voice brought Cutler back to himself. He was huddled on the pavement with no idea how long he'd been there. Fergus was closing the boot of a car, he must have loaded Marie's body in there and there was just a dark stain on the path where she had been lying.

"No. Just deal with the girl." Hal was leaning on the wall, smoking. "Leave Cutler to me"

Fergus grinned, slamming the boot shut. He walked round to the driver's door, pausing beside Cutler, putting his foot under his head, forcing him to look up at him.

"Pathetic. By rights you should be in the boot with her. You don't deserve what Hal has given you." He spat on the ground, so close to Cutler's face that it was worse than if it had hit him. He wasn't even worth that.

The car drove away but Cutler stayed where he was. It was just too much effort to move, he was exhausted and reliving Rachel's death yet again had left him not caring about what Hal might do with him. Maybe he'd finish him. Maybe it would be a relief.

Hal flicked his cigarette end into the gutter and reached out a hand to Cutler, waiting for him to respond with more patience than Cutler had ever seen he show before. Finally he stretched out his hand and took Hal's, letting him pull him to his feet. Cutler tried to pull away, conscious of how dishevelled and dirty he was and how Hal would not approve but Hal wouldn't let him. Instead he pulled him closer and hugged him, holding him until Cutler relaxed enough to hug him back.

When Hal did step back he looked at Cutler just as he had in the early days, back when Cutler had thought they were friends. When Hal still thought he had been worth bringing into his world, when he believed Cutler showed promise and ambition. That was before Hal realised just how unlike him Cutler was.

That was when the cruelty started.

When Rachel was still alive.

"Oh Nick." Hal took his face in his hands and smiled sadly at him.

"What am I going to do with you?"


	2. 1962

We know who made Cutler but _what_ made him? How did he end up with such a burning desire to be the history maker?

it's now 1962 and Hal is gone. Cutler is still trying to find his own way but a chance encounter brings tragedy and maybe hope...

* * *

><p><strong>Hatred is the madness of the heart...<strong>

**1962**

"Because I say so."

Cutler would have liked to have said a lot more but he wasn't sure he could keep his voice even. He looked straight at Fergus and kept quiet, refusing to look away even when the older vampire sneered at him.

"Because you say so? Who the hell do you think you are?"

Fergus leapt up and leaned over Cutler's desk, reaching out a hand to take him by the throat, but Cutler didn't move, even though his body was crying out to back away from the menace and the threat.

"I think I'm the man who will keep you out of jail."

Fergus didn't move for a moment as he took this in and then he sat down again. He still looked at Cutler as though he was something he'd brought in on his shoe but at least – at last - he was going to listen.

Cutler sat back, made himself comfortable and crossed his legs, looking over his steepled fingers at Fergus as if he had never been belittled by the other man. It was in stark contrast to how he felt inside but he had to keep up the pretence of confidence. One day it might even become real.

"I would say I can keep you alive, but frankly, that's a little irrelevant. What I can do is make sure you don't have to explain how you survive the drop."

He smiled, seeing Fergus' eyes narrow in irritation.

"Much as I'd like to hear it."

He went on to tell Fergus how he would deal with the unfortunate situation he had got himself into – a kill had gone badly wrong and the attempted cover up had just made things worse. The press had got hold of the details and the story of a pretty girl, tempted into sinful behaviour and bad company before her body was found, naked and mutilated, had stoked up public indignation. Someone was going to hang.

Fergus hated having to take advice – especially from Cutler – but he had little choice. He agreed to lay low for a while, to move away somewhere where Cutler could keep tabs on him while he 'tidied up'. He got up to leave but couldn't resist one last crack.

"You wouldn't be pushing me around if Hal were here."

"No I wouldn't" agreed Cutler. "You wouldn't have been so bloody stupid if Hal were here."

Fergus slammed the door and Cutler slumped in his chair. Keeping up the air of confidence and superiority with men like Fergus was exhausting – he had no doubts about how the other vampires saw him and he had to look the part or anything might happen to him. He reached over to the drinks cabinet beside his desk and poured a glass from the decanter, drinking it back in one go. The blood helped. It wasn't the same as living blood but it stopped the shakes and the worst of the cravings and as long as he was useful they would keep him supplied. He wanted another drink, he wanted more every day but he was determined to rule the compulsion. He compromised on half a glass more and closed the cabinet.

He pulled the folder of papers towards him and wrote a few notes about what he had instructed Fergus to do and what he would do himself. It was simple really; unethical, illegal and immoral of course, but simple. Money talks so witnesses don't and if police records go astray and coroners change their minds... well, it happens.

He unlocked a drawer and slotted the folder into place. Record keeping was a human habit, one he could forgo nowadays especially as he'd always had a photographic memory – something that made him smile. It was the only photographic thing about him. He liked to keep notes though, records, incriminating evidence – who knows when it might be useful. It was his only form of power.

This was the first file he had on Fergus. He'd been under Hal's tutelage for so many years that he'd never needed anyone else's help before. But Hal had been gone for seven years, killed – staked or poisoned, no one knew which - by a werewolf who had escaped from the cellars just before the full moon. His chains had been pulled free from the wall and on the stairs they'd found Hal's evening suit and an empty champagne bottle but despite all their efforts they had never found the werewolf.

The group that Hal had controlled so tightly was fragmenting without him and Fergus' plight was a symptom of that. It was a measure of Hal's power and control that it had stayed stable this long but his memory wasn't going to keep things together much longer. Cutler was starting to realise he should be planning his own next move.

Hal had set him up in this office, his own practice, when he first recruited him. He couldn't stay with his old firm, especially after Rachel died. He couldn't stand the sympathy and the pitying looks about her 'accident' when he knew the truth of what had happened to her. Her parents had hidden away in their grief and he'd lost touch with his own family long ago, he didn't think they even knew they'd moved to London after he qualified. It made sense to make a fresh start and Hal had set it all up, giving him very clear instructions on what his work was to be now. He worked for any vampires who needed his expertise but he did what Hal told him to.

Being the lawyer of choice for vampires had never been onerous and occasionally humans had seen the brass plate and wandered in seeking advice and if he could he had always helped. He looked around the comfortable office – the wood panelling and the window overlooking the park, it was nothing that could be suspected of being other than what he purported to be. A young yet successful solicitor, his certificates on the wall and his wedding photograph on his desk. His files were carefully locked away and there was a second cabinet from which he could pour a favoured client a glass of brandy.

Cutler had had five years with Hal and they'd been years of heaven and hell – Hal had been cold and cruel, vicious beyond human imagination and it had amused him to break Cutler apart, piece by piece until he was utterly destroyed. He had become entirely dependent on Hal, on his attention, the blood he provided, even on the cruelty and the pain.

He hated him.

He loved him.

He needed him.

Once he was sure that everything human left in Cutler had been eradicated Hal changed. He no longer expected him to hunt with him. He stopped ridiculing him for being satisfied with blood provided by others and even made sure that he had all the supplies he needed. He no longer tried to force him to kill, even though Cutler's initial revulsion had dulled a little. He still saw Rachel in every dead and dying face and that searing pain was all he had left of the man he used to be. It was the one thing that Hal couldn't destroy so he chose to ignore it.

Hal had become the best friend that Cutler could ever have. He gave him confidence, a business, knowledge and money. And all the time Cutler was waiting for the torture to continue. He waited for two years for the pain to begin again, expecting – almost anticipating – the agony and then Hal was gone. Since then he had had to find his own way, in a world that no longer had his friend and his tormentor, his creator, in it.

* * *

><p><em>The night he met Hal shouldn't have been any different to so many other nights. Busy with petty criminals, looking out for the challenging cases, grateful to the police officers who tipped him off about the best ones. His services were in ever greater demand, he was known for being clever and quick and people were starting to ask for him. 'That Nick Cutler, he'll sort me out' was something the police were getting used to hearing. He had more work than he could handle and the others were grateful for the files he passed to them.<em>

_It had been a long day, he was tired and wanted to get home to Rachel when he was asked to see one last client, a non-negotiable client apparently and it was easier to get it over with than to argue. The dapper man, sitting so precisely on the edge of the bunk wasn't what he expected but he had no time to process his first impressions as Mr Yorke kept talking, slowly, precisely – almost seductively._

_He remembered the cell door clanging shut, a blur of movement and then a pain so intense, so deep it was almost exquisite. He remembered hearing screams, wondering at the agony causing such pitiful sounds, then realising that the screams were his. He remembered seeing his papers drift leisurely to the floor, as his heart slowed and stumbled. In the eternity between heartbeats he felt a warm liquid on his mouth, dripping slowly down his throat. He remembered the taste as he drifted into blackness._

_He woke – no, he was flung into consciousness - no idea where he was or how much time had passed, his mind full of images of horror, scrambling to get to his feet. His first words were for Rachel and he felt a cold hand on his shoulder and heard mirthless laughter._

_"Are you always in such a hurry Mr Cutler?"_

_His eyes were clearing and he looked around, he was lying on a mattress in what looked like a cellar. It was gloomy but he recognised the figure standing beside him as the mysterious Mr Yorke._

_"Where..." His voice sounded odd, his throat was sore and he coughed and started again. "Where am I?"_

_"I'll come to that." Hal handed him a glass. "This will help"_

_Cutler looked at it, the liquid was opaque, dark, but the room was too badly lit see what it was._

_"Just drink it."_

_Hal's voice was firm and it was quite clear he expected to be obeyed so Cutler swallowed the contents. It tasted like nothing he'd ever had before and it made him feel well instantly – better than well, alive in a way he had never known possible._

_"Your wife believes you are away on business, I made sure she was reassured."_

_Hal dropped Cutler's jacket and tie on the mattress and obediently Cutler started to tidy himself up. His shirt was crumpled but he did his best._

_"Rachel." Hal's tone was cool but there was something about the way he said the name, something under the words._

_"She's very beautiful. Edible, one might say"_

* * *

><p>Cutler realised he'd been staring at his and Rachel's photograph, twisting the wedding ring he still wore, for a long time. The room was dark and he switched on the desk lamp, picking up the photo frame and polishing away a few smudges on the glass.<p>

The hours he'd spent listening to Hal in that cellar, trying to process what had happened to him were still vivid – as was the blood that Hal had made him drink, a glass every thirty minutes to reinforce the cravings he was already feeling. He had woken quickly; there had been no time to set up the death of human Nick Cutler, to enable him to start over so for the moment Hal had allowed him to return to his old human life. To Rachel. At the time it had seemed like a kindness but it was far from that.

Without conscious though Cutler reached into the desk drawer for the worn brown envelope tucked at the back. It was grubby with handling, the top slightly torn and after he pulled out the papers it contained he threw it away, getting a new one from the cupboard.

He spread out the faded forms. He didn't need to read them, every word was engraved in his memory but he wanted to feel the pain. The reports on Rachel's death were as brutal as ever. He hadn't known what Hal had done with her body, hadn't wanted to know but he'd thought she would just disappear as so many others had. When the police arrived at their house he was scared, when they asked him to identify her body he was horrified. Conveniently Hal was nowhere to be found so he had to go along with the human rituals.

The inquest ruled it was suicide and it was only because Cutler had been 'away on business' that he wasn't charged with assisting her. Her body had been found by a railway line which explained the horrendous injuries, and the blame was placed on her depression over being unable to have children. It was concluded that she had concealed her true feelings from her husband and her family but it had finally become too much to bear. Quite how Hal had set this up, how he had uncovered their most private pain Cutler never knew but his grief and his tears for his beautiful wife were real, despite the sneers of the vampires. He knew they had kept nothing from each other, although it turned out that there was a secret, one that he only discovered when it was too late.

He turned the forms to the very last page and read the final notation.

Rachel had been pregnant.

She probably hadn't known.

There was a tap on the door and his secretary came in as he quickly gathered up the papers.

"I'm off now Mr Cutler. Unless you need anything else?"

"No I'm fine, thank you." He smiled at her and made her blush. "Have a pleasant weekend."

She was a sweet girl, not too young but naive, not likely to start asking awkward questions. He knew she found him attractive – he could hear her heart beat faster when he was close to her. He had to have a secretary, in his position it would have looked odd not to and in many ways he liked the temptation. Resisting the call of her blood every day helped him manage his needs. This one was new and he had to think for a moment to recall her name. He changed his staff often, it helped maintain his fictions and it would never do to have people start to comment on how he never changed, never aged.

She lingered in the doorway, he could tell she was nervous, her pulse was fast and he could smell the blood under the fresh spray of L'Aimant. She'd redone her pale pink lipstick as well.

"Was there something else Linda?"

"Well..." She paused, took a deep breath and then hurried on. "It's my birthday and I wondered if you'd like to join me and my friends for a drink?" She was bright red and clearly having second thoughts about asking. "You don't have to, really, I'm sure your wife is waiting for you"

"My wife died a long time ago." He hadn't intended to say it and he cut through her apologies. "I'd like that very much. I have a few things to finish; may I join you in half an hour?"

She told him where they were going and rushed out, scared and thrilled that she'd managed to ask him after her friends had dared her to.

He watched the door close behind her, wondering why he had said he would go. He never socialised with his staff and only occasionally with his legal colleagues. It was easier to be seen a loner than to keep explaining all the anomalies in his life. He had some company among the other vampires and they had their own drinking dens but he didn't really fit in there either.

He put the documents away, his wedding ring catching the light as he locked the drawer. He pulled at it; he'd never taken it off before, not since Rachel had put it on his finger and it was not going to shift. It wasn't time yet. He walked over to the window – he had lied to Linda, he had nothing to finish but he needed to think. Maybe he wouldn't go, after all she'd never ask him why, she wouldn't dare.

It might be dangerous; he could feel the need for blood gnawing at him, the usual craving that he worked so hard to control. It was the main reason he avoided people but there were times he wanted company and the effort of control and resistance was the price he paid. He drank a glass to dull the immediate need – it was the last he had - and put the decanter away. He knew it would be full again in the morning, he never asked how or who, it was easier not to know.

He would buy his secretary a birthday drink. Of course he would. It was how normal people, humans, behaved after all.

Linda and her friends were sat in the lounge bar of the hotel by the park. Not a pub, they were nice girls, innocent despite their fashionable clothes. She introduced him to Rita and Dawn and he smiled and shook hands and insisted they call him Nick. Linda wouldn't, she blushed again and said she had to stick with Mr Cutler or she'd forget at work. He bought them champagne and was content to sit quietly with his glass of whisky, listening to them chatter, the sound of their blood underpinning the conversation.

A movement caught his eye and he watched a young women walk into the room, pausing to look around. She was striking – her shift dress and high heels the height of fashion and her skirt daringly short. She drew the eye of everyone in the room with her confidant stride and her long shiny black hair, a peacock in the hen house. Cutler couldn't look away – he wasn't sure why but something about her called to him and he was startled when she looked straight back at him and walked over to their table.

Before he could speak – luckily – Linda jumped up and hugged her while Dawn and Rita greeted her with slightly less enthusiasm.

"Mr Cutler, this is my friend Virginia." Linda put her arm round the newcomer and drew her over to Cutler who stood up.

"I'm very pleased to meet you" he offered his hand as she looked up at him. She wasn't as tall as he had thought, in her heels her head came just to his shoulder.

"So, finally, the mysterious Mr Cutler!" She took his hand and held it just a little too long, appraising him quite openly. "Now I know what Linda has been on about"

She grinned at him; reading his reaction to her on his face and sat down, waving to the waiter who pretended he hadn't seen her.

"Damn the man. Nick, please get me a drink, clearly I'm the wrong sex to ask for gin in public." She opened her bag, rummaging fruitlessly inside. "Oh and cigarettes too. Must have left mine at home. And do call me Gina. I find Virginia a singularly inappropriate label."

Cutler felt as he'd been swept up in a tornado. Linda and her friends were still talking, they were used to Gina's ways and the effect she had on people and Cutler was quite used to hiding his feelings. Not from Gina though, something told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking, well, most of it anyway.

He beckoned the waiter and ordered more drinks, another bottle of champagne and gin for Gina as requested. She sat beside him, not quite touching him but he could feel the heat of her skin, was conscious of her every move. She leaned over, talking to Linda, teasing her and laughing at shared jokes and Cutler watched her. Her bracelets hid the pulse beating in her wrist but he could hear it, he could almost feel her blood flowing and it called to him louder than anything he'd ever heard before, drowning out the heartbeats of the other girls. He sipped his whiskey; lost in the thoughts of what it would taste like.

He jumped as a hand settled on his arm.

"Penny for your thoughts." Gina was smiling at him "You were miles away"

Linda and her friends were gathering their coats and bags, getting ready to go; he had no idea how long he'd been lost in his own thoughts.

"My bus goes soon Mr Cutler" Linda was pink and giggly from the champagne "My parents worry if I'm out too late"

He helped her on with her coat and before she could back away gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Happy birthday Linda. Thank you for inviting me." She blushed about as red as he'd ever seen and in a flurry of goodbyes she was gone, Rita and Dawn too.

He sat down again next to Gina, thinking that he had probably better leave too. She held up an unlit cigarette and he picked up his lighter and lit it for her, her hand closing over his to hold the flame steady. She looked straight at him, her eyes dark and direct.

"Don't even think of leaving; not now I have you all to myself." She grinned and let his hand go. "Anyway, I'll never get another drink if you're not here"

Despite himself he smiled and ordered again – the waiter really did not approve of Gina and she didn't help by winking at him, crossing her legs when he served her, showing off an unseemly length of thigh. Cutler couldn't help laughing with her at the man's outraged face and it made him realise how rare it was that he laughed with anyone. This was dangerous territory, he could resist when there were other people to distract him but now it was just Gina and there was something about her, something beyond her blood. She seemed different, an outsider, just as he was. She couldn't be less like Rachel – and he realised that he hadn't thought of his wife since Gina walked it and it shook him. Normally every woman he saw was weighed against her and found wanting.

He lit a cigarette for himself, a distraction, but when he put the pack back down on the table Gina caught hold of his hand, looking at his wedding ring.

"Where does your wife think you are?"

"My wife died." Twice in one day he had admitted it out loud. Maybe it was getting easier. Gina squeezed his hand, her fingers warm on his cold skin.

"I'm sorry. Was it recent?"

"It was a long time ago"

Her eyebrows drew together as she frowned; she looked looked at him as though she was reassessing him, changing her conclusions.

"You must have married very young" was all she said and this time she left her hand over his.

They sat in silence for a moment or two and then Cutler turned his hand to hold hers and was rewarded by a radiant – albeit slightly triumphant - smile. They chatted about all kinds of things as they finished their drinks, about films and books they both liked and two or three times he saw that tiny frown appear again. When their glasses were empty and without discussing it they both stood and he helped her into her coat and they walked out together, no idea where they were headed. Once outside she linked her arm through his, walking close to him and trying to match her stride to his, realising that her heels made it impossible and making him slow to her pace.

"Where shall we go?" He asked her and she laughed, letting go of his arm and spinning round under the streetlight.

"Anywhere! Everywhere!"

He laughed at her pleasure in life, something he had lost so long ago and caught hold of her as she stumbled. She came into his arms so naturally it was only when she reached up and kissed him, lightly at first and then harder that he realised what was happening. He knew he should let her go and walk away, but it felt so right that he pulled her even closer, lost in the moment, his fingers on her pulse and the sound of her heart filling his head.

Then a scream echoed off the buildings and a voice, the words unintelligible but the tone desperate, begging. Gina pulled away, her face horrified, looking for the source of the sound.

"That's Linda." She was running towards it and Cutler had to hurry to catch her as she started down a dark alleyway with no thought of her own safety. There was a dim light at the other end, but Cutler's night vision was much sharper than any human's and he could already see Linda, a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and terrified, blood running down her neck. Fergus was holding her and he was grinning as he looked Gina up and down.

"Well well Mr Cutler." His tone was full of contempt. "I see you've been busy. Maybe you don't want this one now you've found a a new tart."

He ran his other hand over Linda's body as she struggled to get away, her fingers clawing helplessly at the hand over her bloody throat.

"I never knew you had it in you. Whatever would Rachel say?"

He pulled Linda's hair, tipping her head back and showing Cutler and Gina how deeply her neck was torn, his eyes flashing black as he bent and drove his fangs into the wounds, shaking his head so he could tear her skin even further. Linda tried to scream but she was getting weaker and Fergus lifted his head, blood running down his chin.

Cutler heard Gina gasp in horror but she still tried to go to Linda to help her and he admired her bravery as he caught hold of her arm. He stopped her, dreading what Fergus might do to her and she stood still, looking between Cutler, Fergus and Linda, unable to process what she was seeing. Fergus let Linda's body fall and she moaned, too weak to move.

"You want me out of town? I'll go when I'm ready." Fergus wiped his face with his sleeve and started to walk away. "You can clear this up as well, two for the price of one."

He laughed as he left and Cutler knelt over Linda, turning her head to look at her neck. There was no way she would recover and he could see that she was going to die slowly and in pain. He could smell her blood, it was staining his hands and he started to shake.

He felt hands on his shoulders and Gina knelt down beside him, mindless of the filthy ground and cradled Linda's head on her lap, stroking her face and talking to her, murmuring soothing nonsense. She looked at Cutler, her eyes told him what she needed to know and he shook his head.

"Do what you have to." Gina's voice was soft. "I don't pretend to understand what is happening but I know you won't let her suffer."

"I can't" Cutler whispered. "I can't kill her"

Gina reached out and took his hand, feeling how much he was trembling and the stickiness of Linda's blood on their skin.

"You must. She isn't going to recover and I can't bear to see her like this."

Her voice was firmer and he looked again at Linda – at the agony contorting her face, the blood running from her neck and he felt his eyes change. Gina took a ragged breath as she looked at him but she kept hold of his hand and she watched as he put his mouth to the deep tears. As soon as he tasted the blood he was lost and although he tried to be gentle he bit deep into the wounds, drawing out the last of her blood and feeling her heart shudder to a halt.

He pulled away from Linda's body, breaking Gina's hold on his hand and staggered over to the wall, leaning on it for support as the ecstasy of living blood flowed through him chased by the revulsion for what he'd done. He retched and coughed, finally straightening up and turning, expecting to see Gina gone. Instead she was close to him and she put her arms around him, leaning her head on his chest.

"Thank you." Her voice was barely a whisper. "What happens now?"

He pushed her away gently, much as he wanted to stay with her she had to go.

"I need to make a call. You should go, get away from me. You won't see me again"

"Tell me what you are first. What he was. I need to know"

"I'm a vampire"

He didn't wait for a reply but walked quickly out of the alley to the phone box on the next corner. Sorting through coins he found the right change and made a call, saying only the address and then putting the receiver down. He smoked a cigarette before going back, giving Gina time to run but when he got close he saw she was still there. She had straightened Linda's body, smoothed her hair and closed her eyes and now she was brushing down her own clothes.

"I told you to go"

"Yes. I know you did. I want to be sure she'll be taken care of."

He took her arm and drew her out of the alley and across the road when they could wait in the shadows. They stood silently, side by side until a small van drew up and two men got out. Linda's body was carefully loaded into the back and the van drove slowly away. Gina let out a long breath as it turned the corner out of sight.

"Come with me." Her tone was brisk and she started walking, assuming he would follow. They walked, still silent and separate for a few minutes until she lead him to a terrace of houses, small but stately, grandeur on a miniature scale. She walked up the steps to the first house, unlocked the door and walked in. He watched as she switched on lamps, hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. He stayed outside and she turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"You have to invite me in"

"Why?"

"I don't know why, you just do." He paused; he didn't want to hide anything from her any more. "But you must be sure. Once you've invited me its forever. You can't take it back." She shrugged.

"It's a bit late for second thoughts don't you think?"

She looked at Cutler, her eyes dark and thoughtful, for what seemed to him like an eternity.

"Come in."

He walked over the threshold, stopping before he got too close to her, scarcely believing that she hadn't run, that she wasn't scared of him. Maybe this was the change he needed, the new start he'd dreamed off. Hal had told him he had to find his own way, maybe this was it.

She reached out her hand and he took it, seeing the dried blood on their fingers. As he took a step closer he heard her gasp.

"Oh God"

She was looking over his shoulder and he turned to see a large gilt framed mirror – the hallway perfectly reflected with Gina in the centre. She lifted her other hand, running it down his face, resting it on his chest, watching her reflection touching an empty space. For the first time her eyes were uncertain and she bit her lip, frowning as she looked in the mirror.

It was the start of the fear and he didn't want to be the cause of any more pain, he pulled away and had his hand on the door latch when she spoke.

"Don't even think about it Nick Cutler."

She managed a smile although it was a little crooked.

"Don't you dare walk out on me now."


	3. 1962  the morning after

We know who made Cutler but _what_ made him? How did he end up with such a burning desire to be the history maker?

Gina invited Cutler in but will she regret it? Will he?

* * *

><p><strong>Hatred is the madness of the heart...<strong>

**1962 - the morning after  
><strong>

Cutler lay back in the big old fashioned bath, it was filled to the brim with scalding hot water and for once he felt warm. Gina had run the bath, shown him a bedroom across the landing and left him with a pile of towels. He'd tried to insist she took the hot water but she told she had her own bathroom on the next floor up.

"We'll talk in the morning" she said as she left him, turning on the stairs to add "I think we both need some time to think and sleep."

The house left him reassessing who Gina could be. He'd expected a flat, smart probably but small, not this immaculate home. The house was furnished with a mix of antiques and modern pieces, thick rugs and heavy curtains but though it was luxurious it was strangely impersonal. There were no pictures and few ornaments. Was she rich? Was it even her house?

He sighed; he supposed it would all become clear eventually. At the moment he didn't need anything else to worry about – just being here was enough. Was he doing the right thing – letting Gina get close? He'd told her what he was. Hal had always said that if a human knew the truth they had to die.

He was exhausted, the effects of the blood he had drunk from Linda had worn off and the sorrow of causing yet another death had overtaken it. He dried himself, wrapped a towel round his waist and walked across to the room he'd been told was his. He left his bloodstained clothes on the bathroom floor – he could deal with those in the morning.

The room was warm and the bed comfortable, piled with pillows and quilts. He didn't think he'd sleep but when he stretched out under the covers, forcing his body to relax, his eyes closed.

His dreams were of Rachel, as they always were. But this time, unusually, they were of happy times and he was smiling when he woke.

He could smell coffee and cigarettes and he when he sat up he saw Gina was sitting on the chaise in the bay window, her legs curled up under her. She had a cup and saucer beside her and a cigarette in her hand and she looked as though she'd been there for a while. She stretched out, putting out her cigarette and reaching over to pour another cup of coffee from the pot on the side table. She brought it over to him and then sat at the foot of the bed.

"I wasn't sure if you'd still be here." She smiled at him. "I thought you might have flown away."

He must have looked startled as she laughed.

"Oh no – please don't tell me you actually can fly!"

"Strangely, no. I can't."

No one had ever made fun of what he was. Hal had killed anyone who even looked at him sideways and so everyone had been respectful out of fear. This felt odd, uncomfortable and he had no idea how to respond.

He drank the coffee – it was good, hot and strong - and studied Gina as he did. Without her makeup she looked older, not much but there were lines around her eyes that he hadn't noticed before and shadows underneath. She was still striking but he realised she was a woman not a girl. She had brushed her long hair and tied it back and her dressing gown was red silk, the sleeves hid her hands and though she'd tied the belt tightly the front had opened a little. He looked at her pale skin, wondering what it would feel like and as he stared she moved, reaching over to take his empty cup, the fabric moving further as she did so. She turned away to put the cup down and when she turned back he met her eyes, she looked amused.

"I see you have most of the usual instincts." She pulled the neck of the gown together. "That's a good starting point.

"So, tell me. What makes you what you are? Do I watch out for bats? How about garlic? Can I open the curtains or are we doomed to have this conversation in sepulchral gloom?"

This was too much, teasing was one thing but how could he even begin to explain himself to someone who took nothing seriously. It was too important.

"Come on Nick, talk to me, or are you sulking because I didn't have a vestal virgin handy for your breakfast?"

That was the last straw; he didn't have to take any more of this... this ridicule. He threw back the covers, starting towards the door but her delighted laughter reminded him that he'd left his clothes in the bathroom.

"Oh no darling - don't even try! Naked men can never stalk out with any authority; you just don't have the necessary gravitas without trousers."

She jumped up and stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders, standing so close he could feel her breath.

"Come back and talk to me, I want to understand. I'll listen and I'll behave, I promise."

She pressed her body against him, feeling him shiver. He closed his eyes, he wanted to talk to her, he wanted to try and make sense of what he was and he had to finally admit it. He was lonely. Gina was the first person that he had met since the night that had changed everything who he felt he could talk to, who might understand. He hadn't even been able to tell Rachel but Gina was different. Whatever she said next would make him decide.

"Well, I'll try and behave."

He felt her smile against his back and she kissed his neck before she let go and moved away. He heard her sit back down on the bed and when she spoke again her voice was quieter.

"I'm not good at asking nicely, I don't get a lot of practice but I do want you to stay.

"Please Nick."

He wanted to stay. He wanted to talk to someone, to have someone who he could be himself with – whoever he was. He had to give this a chance so he turned and got back into bed. Gina didn't say anything but he noticed she didn't look politely away and her mouth twitched as if she really wanted to say something.

She gathered up the skirt of her dressing gown and sat crossed legged facing him, taking hold of his hands.

"Your skin is so cold. Are you always cold?"

"Yes. Always. I suppose we get used to it but..." he shrugged. No point in sugar coating this, in his head he was already committed to telling her everything.

"We're dead. We were killed and recreated, I'm not human. Not anymore. Whatever happens you must never forget that."

"I understand" Gina's eyes were thoughtful. "I watched you last night, with Linda. It's all about blood for you isn't it?"

Cutler sat back; he was startled at how she had got straight to the point, the crux of everything. He nodded, not sure how to explain it but she went on.

"I could see how it called to you, how it affected you once you'd tasted it. I saw the other man, how he took pleasure in the pain he was causing but you didn't. Is it an addiction or do you really need it to survive? What happens if you go without?"

"I don't know. I try not to let it rule me but I've never stopped completely. Some have tried but they always fail eventually. Some go mad trying to stop and some end their own existence in desperation but for most its part of what we are, the only part of what some are. Killing and blood. Viciousness and pain. That's what our lives are."

She nodded, frowning slightly as she processed what he said before she carried on.

"But you want to be different. You don't want to kill. Do you have ways that you can manage, how you can get what you need?"

"Yes, I do. I have help from..." He stopped, this all felt surreal. "How do you know this? How can you possibly understand how I am?"

"I understand better than you think."

Gina let go of his hands and looked down, the first time her eyes had left his. She slowly pushed up the sleeve of her gown and turned her arm so he could see, raising her eyes to his face to see his reaction to the scars and the marks in the crook of her elbow. Old marks.

"I understand addiction."

She pulled the sleeve down again and unclipped the wide silver bracelets she wore on both arms, dropping them on the bed. She turned her hands towards him and he saw more scars, white and red lines, criss-crossed over both slim wrists.

"I understand desperation."

* * *

><p><em>It had been three years of hell while Hal had systematically destroyed everything that was left of the human Cutler had once been. He pulled him apart, piece by piece, and now Cutler could no longer function without Hal. <em>

_Except that he would not kill._

_He was cunning, he managed to be in the wrong place, he let others take his turn, he hoped Hal wouldn't notice. But he did. Of course he did. He had forced him but on those few occasions Cutler thought he had killed Rachel and his anguished howls and pitiful sobbing had affected some of the hardest hearted of Hal's men. It had to be dealt with._

_It was two days after the full moon and Hal and Fergus were in Cutler's office, ostensibly making sure the fate of the human dismembered by the werewolf in the full moon fight had been cleared away tidily. Cutler confirmed that everything was in order, what had been left of the body had been dealt with and Hal smiled at him, a radiant smile of thanks that took Cutler by surprise. Totally distracted, he was stammering something about just doing his job when Fergus hit him._

_He came round lying on a concrete floor, his head ached and he winced as he sat up and looked around. He was in the cage, the werewolf cage. He got up and ran to the gate but it was padlocked, he shook it as hard as he could but it was designed to resist the power of a transformed werewolf, he had no chance of getting out. He ran from side to side, desperately looking for an escape, looking out into the dark space outside the bars but he was alone. _

_He sat in the corner of the cage, the furthest from the door into the room, thinking that he could hide in the shadows. He had to think. He was so used to Hal ruling his every moment that he'd lost the power to question. He banged his head on the bars, over and over. Why was he here?_

_There was no way to know how the time was passing, his watch had disappeared along with his jacket and waistcoat and his pockets were empty. The dim light over the cage never changed and no sound came from outside. The only way he had to gauge the hours was the craving, the gnawing, as the need for blood clawed at him._

_In the last few weeks Hal had been remarkably generous and – as he had been trained – Cutler had never queried why. He'd been supplied with as much blood as he wanted, as often as he wanted it. No one had questioned his right or his lack of providing for others, his lack of hunting and killing. Now things were starting to become clearer and he forced himself to remember. His sharp legal brain, accustomed to reasoning and assessing, questioning everything, had been steeped in blood and pain by Hal to the point where he could only do what he was told. The blood he'd been wallowing in had left him more dependent than ever and already he was shaking with need. Surely Hal wouldn't do this to him? _

_All he could do was wait and suffer. The cramps and the shakes got worse and worse until every part of his mind was focused on the need. He didn't notice the door open and it was only when Hal pulled out a chair and sat at his table close to the bars that Cutler looked up. Hal didn't speak, didn't smile, didn't move and even though Cutler flung himself at the bars, begging to be let out, trying to reason with him, promising him anything, he didn't react. He watched for a while and eventually he smiled. He reached behind him and produced a tightly sealed bottle and two glasses which he stood on the table. Cutler stopped talking, completely captivated by the sight of the red liquid as Hal unscrewed the top releasing the scent of fresh blood, tipping the bottle and pouring two glasses. He put the top back on and pushed one glass across the table toward the cage. Cutler reached through the bars, pushing his shoulder against them, stretching as far as he could but Hal had measured precisely and the glass was an inch beyond his finger tips. The smell was maddening and he groaned in frustration and need. Hal lifted his own glass and drank, slowly, savouring every drop, not talking his eye's from Cutler's for a moment. He sighed in pleasure as he finished the last drop and picked up the other glass, slowly tipping it over, letting the blood run onto the floor, watching Cutler trying to reach it before it dried, but it was just beyond the reach of his desperate fingers and the two drops that splashed close enough for him to touch only made the pain worse. Still silent, Hal turned and walked away, leaving Cutler to suffer the smell of the blood._

_Every day at noon Hal returned. Every day he went though the same ritual. He watched Cutler as he descended into madness, taunting him silently with the smell of blood. In the early days Cutler pleaded, begged and threatened but soon he was beyond speech. Hal had made sure he had an addiction so deep, so entrenched, that such a young recruit had no stamina to resist it. He watched day by day until Cutler was no more than an animal. It happened sooner than he had expected, and Hal realised that the younger man had the potential to be stronger than he had estimated for the blood to have such a hold on him already._

_One day the routine changed. Hal sat as usual, watching Cutler crouched in the cage, his clothes were torn and he was filthy and bloodstained. He'd bitten deep into his wrists in search of blood but Hal knew that his own blood would have had no effect and the wounds wouldn't heal until he drank. Every day Cutler waited, every day he expected the blood to be close enough to touch but today Hal only poured one glass. He stood and walked toward the bars, stopping at exactly the point where Cutler couldn't reach him. He reached out beyond the invisible barrier, holding the glass and Cutler's arm came through the bars and grabbed it. He tipped the contents into his mouth, using his fingers to get every last drop out of the glass. Hal smiled and sat down, waiting and watching, he knew exactly what would happen next._

_The agony hit Cutler – Hal had set it up perfectly, the small glass of fresh blood did nothing to stop the craving, it just multiplied the pain and the need. As he screamed Hal snapped his fingers and swiftly two of his men unlocked the cage and threw in a terrified girl, locking the door again. The girl had been drugged and her throat was scored with scratches so blood snaked down her neck. Cutler's head came up, his eyes were black and the smell of blood overwhelmed him. He crawled toward the girl, catching hold of her and plunging his fangs into her neck, driven mad by the smell of the blood. He drained every drop he could, tearing at her flesh to get at the last before letting the broken body fall. For the first time in many days the pain was gone, only exhaustion was left and he slept. Hal stood and walked away, he had finally seen the single-minded ferocity that he'd always known was a part of Cutler and he nodded approvingly. _

_Two more days. Two more bodies torn apart in Cutler's desperation for the blood that would stop the pain. On the third day Hal noticed the frenzy had eased a little, the death still came quickly but this time Cutler took more time with the blood. Afterwards he saw Hal watching him and instead of attacking the bars trying to reach him he stared at him, motionless, unblinking. This time it was Hal who looked away first._

_The next time Cutler woke his mind was clearer and the worst of the pain had gone. He still felt the craving, the compulsion, but it seemed less sharp and that puzzled him. He pushed his tangled hair back off his face and looked at himself, how filthy he was, at the partly healed bite marks on his wrists and arms and his torn nails. How long had he been here? He stood, his whole body ached and he stretched to try and ease his sore muscles but as he turned he saw the broken bodies, torn apart, covered in bites and scratches and it all came back to him. He'd done that._

_Horrified he backed away and sat against the bars, trying to force his memory to fill in the gaps and make sense of what he'd done. Hal had done this, had driven him mad to the point where the only thing that mattered was blood and he'd killed without thought or regret. That was why the pain was gone, why his mind was clear again. _

_Why had he done it? What would Hal gain from this? Maybe it was just the pleasure of seeing him so desperate; Cutler had no illusions about Hal's cruelty. He would have savoured every moment of Cutler's ignominy. He remembered little of the madness, only fragments of the agony and the utter desperation but he remembered Hal watching._

_He was trying to make sense of what was happening to him when he heard footsteps and Hal stood outside the cage. Cutler stood and faced him; there was only one thing he wanted to know._

"_Why?"_

_Hal smiled._

"_It will all become clear." He snapped his fingers and his men pushed another girl through the door into the cage, locking it quickly behind her. She was terrified, beyond screaming at the sprawled bodies and she sank to the floor, weeping silently. This one wasn't drugged and neither was she bleeding._

"_Not again." Cutler shook his head. "Not this time."_

_Hal shrugged. He reached inside his jacket and produced a wooden stake, the end clean and sharp and he threw it through the bars so it landed at Cutler's feet._

"_Fine. Your choice. But only one of you gets out."_

_Cutler picked up the stake, could he do it? Could he end his own life? It was sharp and he didn't think it would take much effort to drive it into his heart. He'd seen it done often enough. It would all be over then, the killing and the pain would end._

_But why should he be the one to die? _

_He felt a sudden blaze of anger; after all it hadn't been his choice to become this creature. Why should he take the blame if it wasn't his fault? If these last days had taught him anything it was that the urge to kill, the need for blood was part of the vampire, part of him. He couldn't pretend to be human; this was what he was now. It was up to him to decide how to deal with it, he could choose to kill or not, control the monster in his own way. He'd been judging his new existence by human standards, human morals, and that had to end. He didn't have to be like Hal or Fergus, he could be different. A vampire for the twentieth century, not mired in the past, repeating the same old stories. He could be something new; all he had to do was work out how. But first he needed to get out of the cage and he needed to hold onto the anger to do it._

_A memory came to him, that when Hal had last been here he hadn't been able to keep looking at him, he had looked away. That small victory gave him strength, he could make this work. He would do whatever he had to do to win._

_He went over to the weeping girl and pulled her to her feet._

"_Please" she whispered, he could feel her trembling, her legs couldn't hold her and he had to support her. "Please don't hurt me."_

"_I won't hurt you, you're safe now." He held her closer and she clung to him, thinking she had found a protector. He kept talking to her, reassuring her as he moved towards where Hal was sitting, making sure he could see what was happening._

"_Tell me your name."_

"_Rachel."_

_Hal smiled._

_For a moment Cutler stopped, he almost let her fall, he knew Hal would have chosen her just for that reason, that all the girls he had killed were young and blonde was no coincidence. But this wasn't his Rachel. She was gone, he would mourn her for all eternity but the man who had married her was dead too. The anger grew again at the thought of what had been stolen from him – his life and his humanity, his wife and Rachel's husband had both died at the hands of the man who watched him._

_He stroked her hair, she had stopped shaking, she had started to trust him and he quickly pulled her head back, exposing her throat, holding her wrists in his other hand to stop her fighting. Using the fury and the rage to quell his usual revulsion, slowly and deliberately he bit into her neck looking at Hal as he did so. He took his time, this would be the last time he killed on someone else's orders, if he killed again it would be when he decided to do so. The hot blood brought the ecstasy it always did and he closed his eyes, making it last as long as he could. Finally her heart stopped and he carefully laid her body on the ground. He walked over to the door of the cage and at Hal's nod the padlocks were unlocked and he walked out, sitting down at Hal's table. _

_There was a bottle of whisky between them and he poured a glass and drank it, waiting for Hal to speak. He held on to the last of the anger, it gave him confidence, he could build on it. He wouldn't speak first; he wouldn't ask Hal for explanations, he forced himself to stay silent and eventually Hal spoke. _

"_Now do you see?" Hal was looking at him, reassessing him. "There are times when it is necessary to kill."_

_Cutler took his time, he drank another glass of whiskey. He let the fury grow and he channelled it into self possession. He faced Hal with a confidence that belied the filthy, tattered state he had been reduced to._

"_I'll concede that, yes, at times. But I suspect there are less messy ways of convincing me." He smiled. "It was effective but perhaps a little old fashioned."_

_He paused and looked at Hal, meeting his eyes and seeing a guarded approval. _

"_It doesn't change who I am though. You made me and then you made me what I am now. I will always respect that but I will make my own choices and find my own way in this life, with or without you." He passed his glass to Hal who refilled it. _

"_Your choice. But I'd prefer it to be with you."_

* * *

><p>Cutler took Gina's hands, closing his fingers over her wrists, remembering his own desperation before he choose to live and he realised that she could truly understand.<p>

"What happened to you?"

"Oh darling it's a dull story, very unoriginal" She pulled her hands away, not looking at him as she busied herself putting her bracelets back on. He put his hand to her face, tipping her chin up so she had to look at him.

"What happened to honesty and understanding? Do you think I'm not capable of either?"

"You're right, I'm not being fair." She looked at him and managed an uneven smile. "Just don't complain if I bore you to sleep"

She slipped off the bed and went over to the window pulling the heavy curtains open, letting the sun in. Cutler winced at the sudden light and closed his eyes.

"Does that hurt? Shall I close them again?"

"No, I'm fine" he opened his eyes slowly, she looked worried. "It's just at first; the brightness is hard to bear but its OK now."

She sat down on the chaise and lit a cigarette, gazing out of the window as she started to speak. She didn't look at Cutler and he wondered if she'd told her story to anyone before.

"I was in New York looking for fun and parties and new experiences. In case you hadn't realised my family have money so I've never needed to be at all practical. I found lots of new things to do, all of them were fun and most of them got me into trouble. Eventually I ended up in Harlem and you can guess what happened next. Just fill in the blanks with all the usual stories of good girls gone wrong"

She looked at him at that point and forced a grin.

"Although even then I was never a very good girl."

She lit another cigarette and looked away again.

"I got hooked. I think my father suspected and he stopped my allowance so I ended up doing anything to get what I needed. I did all the degrading things you can imagine and probably some more you can't and eventually when I was no use and no fun anymore I was dumped on the steps of Bellevue half dead from whatever they'd injected me with that night.

"Someone worked out who I was and the family swept in and had me shipped back to Europe to the best clinics they could find. Money no object. They cleaned me up physically but I didn't want to be clean, I didn't see the point and that was the first time I tried to kill myself. It seemed easier. There was another round of clinics, throwing money at me was the only way to show they cared and I saw all the best psychiatrists. I was vile. I didn't want to be sorted out and I tried again, twice. The last time it almost worked.

"Then there was one more doctor and he was different. He didn't try and fix me, he let me rant and rave and be as awful as I wanted and I soon got bored with it. I realised that I actually wanted to talk to him and he helped me figure out a few things. I needed to work out who I was and accept it and then live my life. That's what I'm trying to do now."

She turned back to face Cutler.

"So now you know. Maybe it's you that should walk away from me."

He has so many questions he wanted to ask her; suddenly she looked tiny and fragile, all the effortless confidence gone.

"What about your family? Do they still help?"

"Oh no darling. I haven't seen any of them since before I went to New York. I have this house and enough money that I can live well but I've been excommunicated. Oh the shame!" She laughed and it seemed that she consciously shook off the sadness.

"No one knows what happened to me – no, not what happened, what I did." She corrected herself. "Linda asked where I'd been hiding but I don't have many friends left from before. I only saw Linda by chance a week or so ago, her mother was our housekeeper and we played together until I was sent away to school. I'm sure she suspected I was packed off for an abortion or two – either that or I've dropped a trail of little bastards all over Europe. Poor Linda, she would have been so shocked if she'd known."

Cutler wanted to reassure her that Linda would be looked after but it felt too late, there were ways he could influence proceedings and he would do what he could. Thinking of Linda reminded him of blood and he could feel the cravings starting to sharpen and he wondered if Gina felt the same.

"Do you miss it?"

She looked at him and she knew exactly what he was asking. She lit yet another cigarette to cover up her feelings.

"Oh I've found lots of other lovely things to do instead – dancing and cigarettes, gin and brandy, and men of course, lots of men."

"Do you miss it?"

"I distract myself. That's what you were supposed to be – a distraction. A clever pretty man I could play with, I was going to take you from your wife and then drop you. I'm really not very nice.

"We're both monsters; maybe that's what drew us together."

She got up and walked over to the bed, untying the belt on her gown, letting it drop to the floor. She wasn't in the slightest bit self-conscious and she pirouetted for him before climbing into bed. They lay facing each other not touching, Cutler wanted to hold her but he was scared of hurting her, of being unable to resist her blood. She stretched out a hand and touched his face.

"I miss it every day. As do you. Maybe we can distract each other"

He could feel the heat from her skin, hear her heart and he put out his arms and pulled her closer. He kissed her, his fingers found the pulse in her neck, as she moved against him feeling his body respond. She ran her hand down his chest, over his stomach and further – holding and stoking and exploring, watching his face to see his reaction. When he moaned softly she smiled, kissing his throat and for a moment she laid her head on his chest.

"No heartbeat. That will take some getting used to." She looked up at him, frowning. "You do know that this should be completely impossible, if you really are dead then how..."

Her fingers stopped moving.

"Ah. I see that questioning the magic stops it working."

He closed his eyes and turned away, embarrassed but she pulled at his shoulder, making him face her.

"Honesty remember. Never be concerned about what you do or say with me as long as you are honest"

He sighed, he had no real explanations for her, she kept asking him questions he'd never been faced with before. This was certainly one he'd never thought to ask Hal.

"I don't know how everything works. Or doesn't work. No one has ever studied us, it's a horror among our race that one day someone might. There are many things that shouldn't happen, shouldn't work. I believe that the body just somehow remembers what it was to be human. Asking questions reminds it that it isn't."

"That makes sense." She laughed "As much as anything makes sense right now." She pushed her hair back and her face took on a determined look. "Now, I'm not easily defeated so let's see if we can't raise the magic again" and he couldn't help but laugh with her this time.

Much later when Gina had gone to fetch brandy Cutler piled up the pillows and sat back, thinking about Gina, about Hal and about Rachel. About what he was and what he could be. For the first time since the night that he met Hal in that police cell he allowed himself to believe that there might be hope.

Gina paused inside the door, her bare feet had made no sound and Cutler hadn't heard her return. She looked at him and he was so still, so pale and even the faint memories of breathing had stopped. It reminded her of what he'd said, that she must never forget he wasn't human. For the first time, for just a moment, she was completely and utterly terrified.

The glasses she was holding touched and that tiny sound alerted Cutler and he smiled, breaking the spell and sending the fear away. He took the glasses from her, settling her comfortably beside him as she poured drinks.

His arm round her shoulders, she tried to marry the glimpse of the vampire, the inhuman being, with the gentle way he touched her, as if he was scared she would break and she suspected she had shocked him with her expertise. She could feel that he was shaking, just a little and she knew the craving for blood was getting stronger. He drank the bandy quickly and refilled the glass.

"I must go soon. I need to..."

She cut him off.

"I know. I understand. You have to deal with your needs, and that's one thing I can't help you with." She realised that his hand was stoking her neck, his fingers settling in the place where he could feel her blood flow.

"Do you regret staying? Telling me what you are?"

He shook his head but he looked pensive.

"No, no regrets just... Well, since Rachel, my wife... Since she died, since she was killed, there's been no one. No one until you."

"Then I feel very special." He looked at her expecting to see her grinning, teasing him, but she wasn't. She meant it.

"Will you come back?"

"Yes, if you'll have me now you know what I am. I'll always come back."


	4. 1972

**Hatred is the madness of the heart...**

* * *

><p><strong>1972<strong>

"Who are Ivan and Daisy?"

"No one you know." Cutler took the folder of papers off Gina and put it back on the pile on his desk. "Please stop moving things around. There is a system here."

Gina laughed and swung her feet up on his desk, planting her high heels firmly on the heap of files he'd just straightened up.

"I thought you only worked with vampires nowadays, how do you have photos of them?"

He wasn't going to get any more work done that day. He hadn't seen Gina for months, almost a year, and as usual she had breezed in without warning and carried on where they had left off. He lifted up her feet and took the files away, dropping them in a drawer which he locked, watching as she recrossed her ankles and admiring her long legs.

"They need travel documents and I need photos for that. Anyway, you know how, the photos are of people who look similar, no one ever looks at passports that carefully."

"I do like the look of him... is it a good likeness?" Gina waved a photo at him. "Maybe you could introduce me?"

He took the photo off her and put it back in the file, smiling. Even the famously laid back Ivan would find Gina something of a challenge.

"Daisy would not be pleased if I did and believe me, you do not want to be on the wrong side of Daisy"

Gina took her legs off the desk and walked around the office – Cutler had let her design it when he had moved in and it was much more modern than he would have chosen but he had come to like it. He hadn't stayed long at the last place after Fergus attacked Linda. Gina had persuaded him to make a clean break and start again, working on his terms not those left over from Hal. The bright, sleek setting made the older vampires uncomfortable and that worked to his advantage. His age meant they took him less seriously so anything he could do to gain some authority was worth it.

Gina was looking at two new pictures he had acquired as part payment for his help. They were abstracts, stark black and white images and she smiled as she looked at them, clearly recognising the style.

"Are they originals?"

He shrugged. He had no idea and with some of his clients it was best not to ask too many questions. Or any questions at all.

"I haven't a clue. Do you approve?"

"I do rather. I had no idea you had any taste at all." She came over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders then running them down the lapels of his jacket. "Speaking of which I see you've finally started dragging yourself out of the 40s. I like the suit, much better than those stuffy old waistcoats and pinstripes."

She undid his tie and dropped it in the bin.

"That is too dull to live." She undid the collar of his shirt and then stood back to look at him. "I'm going to have to help you find some decent shirts but it's a start.

"You look presentable enough to take me for a drink without me dying of embarrassment anyway. Give me another ten years and I might even get you a decent hair cut!" She swung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. "Come on then, don't just stand there!"

Cutler smiled and followed her, locking the office and finally catching up with her on the pavement. He had things to do but he'd learned the hard way about when it was worth trying to argue with Gina and they'd had some spectacular rows over the years, although never about anything particularly serious. He rarely won but then, and he laughed out loud at the memories, she cheated. She knew he was scared of hurting her and she took full advantage of being able to distract him physically.

"What's so funny?"

"You are."

She rolled her eyes.

"You always say the nicest things. Makes me so glad I came to find you." She linked her arm in his. "Let's find a pub; if you're going to be rude to me I need a drink." She stood up on her toes so she could kiss his neck, just under his ear as she whispered. "And when I've had a drink you can take me home so I can be very rude to you." She laughed as she felt his arm round her waist pulling her closer before he remembered they were in the street and let her go.

Cutler never realised quite how much he missed Gina until she was with him and he was curious about her latest adventures, she'd never been away for so long before. They spent less time together now, he had his work and was slowly gaining a reputation for being useful in the vampire world while she was travelling and finding new distractions. After Linda's death he had stayed in Gina's house for months and they'd talked endlessly about what he was and how what she had learned could help him. She'd listened when he talked about Rachel and about Hal, although secretly she wondered if Rachel could possibly have been that faultless, any marriage that perfect. She helped him start afresh, to begin to accept what he was but as soon as he was settled she disappeared for weeks. She always came back and he was always the first person she looked for whatever she'd done and wherever she'd been. He could see the irony, he was the one who had told her he would always come back to her and it turned out she was living a free life while he was the one who stayed behind.

At first he had hated not knowing what she was doing, she still found men everywhere she went but he knew that he couldn't be with her all the time, it was too dangerous for her. Not to mention that she would have driven him mad and in truth he knew he preferred to be alone. He had had a charmed life with Rachel and that had been perfect in every way. Now he had a part of Gina – probably more than she allowed anyone else to have - and that had to be enough. He told himself he wasn't jealous, that he couldn't offer her a human life but he envied anyone who took her attention and her time, attention that could have been his. He knew that some vampires made themselves a companion, as Ivan had done, but he didn't want to risk making a vampire who wanted to kill, he had worked so hard to accept that he could find a way without it. He'd never recruited and never intended to. It was another part of being what he was that he wanted to avoid and however you looked at it, it was still a death.

They found a pub on the second attempt, the first one had mirrors everywhere which always got a little awkward, and Cutler bought drinks. He lit cigarettes for both of them and Gina caught hold of his hand.

"No ring." She squeezed his fingers. "I noticed you'd put Rachel's photos away."

He didn't reply but she noticed his other hand went to his neck almost without thinking and she leaned over and undid another button on his shirt, sliding her hand under the collar. He had a silver chain round his neck and it had his wedding ring threaded on it. She looked at it; there was an inscription on the inside.

"What does this mean?"

"_Vita aeterna_, it means eternal life. I'd forgotten it was there, Rachel chose it. Her ring had _amor es meus, in aeternum_ inside; 'my love, for eternity'. They're curious choices in light of what happened." He tucked the ring back into his shirt. "It was time to put the photos away – apart from anything else it got a bit messy when I forgot and told someone it was over twenty years since my wife died."

"That would have made you six." Gina smiled at him "I bet you were a gorgeous little boy."

"I really wasn't. I was very grubby, dressed in hand-me-downs and much too common to appeal to you. Although I was six when I first saw Rachel."

Gina sighed; she was starting to get a little bit tired of hearing about his perfect wife and their perfect life. He'd done so well in moving forward but it was time he put his marriage in the past. She'd been trying to convince him to take off his wedding ring for a few years but he had always changed the subject.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while and then Cutler got them more drinks. When he sat down again, she moved to sit close to him so he could feel the warmth of her skin. She was very tanned which was unusual and it seemed to him that she glowed, her skin felt like he remembered sunlight did in the days when it didn't burn.

"I can tell you're not going to tell me so I suppose I have to ask. Where have you been?"

"I've been busy but for the last few weeks I was in Italy. I've been posing for an artist I met in Florence. Lying around in the sun in some rather lovely gardens and no clothes at all. Maybe you'll see me in a gallery one day."

"It'll make a change to know where you are." It came out sharper than he intended and she raised her eyebrows.

"Before that I was in Switzerland and then I went to New York. I've been looking up some old friends."

"Are you sure that's wise? Why would you go back to New York after what happened?"

"I think I'll decide what's wise for me. What's wrong with you? You're very critical today." Gina drained her glass and stood up to go to the bar.

"Haven't you had enough? You know I worry about you and how you put yourself at risk." As soon as he spoke he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He did worry about Gina but he knew that whatever he said or did she wouldn't change her life for him or for anyone and he admired and envied her that.

It was too late to take it back though and she was furious.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do. You worry? That's rich coming from a killer; I'm more at risk with you than anyone else I might meet." She stared at him, he couldn't remember seeing her so angry before.

"I'm not your perfect fucking wife. I'm not Rachel and I never will be. Why would I want to be?" She reached over and pulled the chain out from under his shirt, pulling it hard enough that it snapped. She dropped his wedding ring on the table.

"You might have eternal life but you will never properly live it until you leave the past behind. You can't control me and keep me at home.

"Deal with it. Or walk away"

She spun on her heel and for a moment he thought she would walk out but she went to the bar, climbing up on a high stool and ordering a very large gin.

Cutler knew she was right. He wanted her to behave in a way he understood but it wasn't going to happen and it was her zest for new adventures, her unpredictability that made Gina what she was. He wanted to go after her and apologise, sort things out but it was too soon. Gina never held a grudge but she had been so angry he needed to let her calm down a while. She was chatting to a man sat near her at the bar and he knew she would flirt with him to make her point. He sipped his whiskey and lit a cigarette, waiting for the moment when she would turn and look at him.

He would never walk away from her, he couldn't, and he finally admitted to himself that Gina knew him much better than Rachel ever had.

* * *

><p><em>A year after Cutler had walked out of the cage he and Hal had found something that could be called a friendship. Cutler was considered Hal's protégé and earned a grudging respect as such although few of the vampires had much time for him, a vampire who didn't kill was a mystery to them. Hal was still reassessing Cutler. He wasn't what he had expected; he had anticipated great things and had been disappointed but when he had watched his madness in the cage, the vicious ferocity it had uncovered he had reconsidered. How Cutler had recovered and used his ordeal to gain strength had impressed Hal although he would never tell him. He had faith again that the potential he first saw could be fulfilled.<em>

_They could laugh together and work together, they spent many hours in each other's company, they drank and caroused together – to any observer they were friends. But neither trusted the other an inch._

_They were sitting in Hal's club, a secret club monly open to the most senior vampires. Hal had hunted earlier – he always hunted – and Cutler had not. They were now sat by a grand fireplace, alternating decanters of brandy and blood and discussing the investments Cutler looked after for Hal. _

_As they drank the room emptied until they were the only ones left. It didn't matter; no one would even consider challenging Hal's right to be there as long as he wished. Neither was drunk but both were relaxed and less guarded than usual and the conversation flowed into other areas. When the talk paused while Hal lit cigars for them, Cutler broke the silence and asked a question he'd asked many times before._

"_Why me?" _

"_Why not you." That was what Hal always said but he took sip of brandy and continued. "I saw the darkness you kept so well hidden."_

_He had never said that before. Cutler wasn't sure he wanted to hear more so he took the chance to ask the other question that was always on his mind._

"_And why Rachel? She did you no harm. She never harmed anyone."_

_Hal laughed. _

"_Oh Nick. You do like to preserve the memory of your sainted wife. The angelic Mrs Cutler." He drank back a glass of blood. "Be honest. Was it really all so very perfect?_

"_Don't you realise that I know what you were and what you did. Isn't it time you admitted it?"_

_Cutler stared into the fire. Hal had never asked Cutler about his past and he'd thought he had no interest in his human life but maybe he hadn't asked because he hadn't needed to. What had he seen? What had he found out?_

"_I don't know what you mean. Rachel and I were happy; she was everything I ever wanted."_

"_Really?" Hal raised his eyebrows. "Really? You have a very selective memory. I know you Nick Cutler. I know all about your schemes and your secrets." He filled their brandy glasses again and sat back._

"_Maybe I can prompt your memory a little. Let me see. All those names. Who to choose?" He paused, smiling in the way that warned Cutler he wasn't going to like what came next._

"_I expect you will remember Lizzie, given that we met on the same day you last saw her? I believe she was very grateful for your help."_

_Cutler stared at him. Of course he remembered Lizzie; she had been in court in the morning of the day that he met Hal. The day that changed everything. He remembered her sitting in his office that afternoon._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Lizzie sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair in the tiny office watching the young solicitor finish off the papers that would let her go free. Although free wasn't really the word, she had to go back to her regular street corner; she hadn't made enough money yet to go home without earning a beating. Getting arrested was an occupational hazard and Mr Cutler had helped her before. All the girls knew him; he often managed to find errors in the paperwork that meant they escaped a fine so they asked for him whenever they were arrested. She'd heard the stories of course, but everyone said the price was worth paying. So far she hadn't been asked to pay and she was counting the seconds until she could leave.

"Right Lizzie, that's all done." He put his pen down and tidied up the papers. He sat back, looking her up and down, considering her face, as she sat still and hoped he'd let her go.

"There's just the question of my bill."

That was what the other girls had told her he would say. He had never said it to her before; they all knew he preferred blondes and Lizzie's dark hair and olive skin had let her escape his attentions so far. She looked at him, her face blank as she responded as she knew she had to.

"I don't have any money to pay you Mr Cutler, but I am very grateful."

He watched her eyes go dead, her professional face appearing, the one that stopped her feeling anything. It intrigued him how they could all put on this mask.

"Then you should demonstrate your gratitude."

For a moment she didn't move and he thought she might refuse. No one had refused before and he wondered what he would do but she stood up and walked round to where he sat. She was young and still pretty; her way of life hadn't left its mark yet although it wouldn't be long before she'd be just as worn and tough as the others. He'd seen her before and although her dark hair wasn't to his taste, today he saw something about the way she held herself, the way she moved that reminded him of Rachel. He usually found a more obvious likeness but Lizzie was here now. She would do.

She knew what was expected of her. The other girls must have told her and that was good, he hated having to explain, he didn't really want to talk to them at all. She knelt in front of him, her face expressionless as she undid his buttons and bent over him. He knotted his fingers in her hair, pulling it as she moved and with his other hand he reached out to turn the photograph on his desk so he could see Rachel's face.

She was surprisingly skilful considering she was so young and he was soon finished, his fingers tightening on her head to hold her still, knowing how desperate she was to get away from him. When he let her go he closed his eyes as she straightened his clothes, not opening them again until he heard the door close behind her.

He looked at the paperwork on his desk, he needed to go back to the police station, he had a pile of new cases to deal with. He reached for his briefcase, realising he had long dark hairs caught between his fingers and he gathered them together, dropping them in the wastepaper basket.

Only a few more hours and he would be home with Rachel.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_Cutler was used to concealing his feelings but he knew that right now his thoughts were clear. How could Hal know, no one knew about the payment he took?_

"_She was a pretty girl, little Lizzie. Not any more though, and not blonde either, as I believe all the rest were. All those cheap whores. Where does that leave your perfect wife?"_

"_Rachel __**was**__ perfect, it changed nothing." Cutler's voice was almost a whisper. "We were happy but Rachel didn't... wouldn't... She was different..." He sighed. "She never knew and it didn't make me love her any less."_

_Hal put his head back and laughed. He seemed genuinely amused and Cutler drank more brandy. _

"_Of course she knew. She knew every time and she knew you couldn't be bothered to hide it from her. It's too late to make excuses now." _

"_How could she have known?" Cutler was desperate for it to be a lie, that Rachel had known the truth about him, that he hadn't had complete control of their lives as he had thought was something he had never considered possible. "How can you be so sure? You didn't know her." _

"_I knew Rachel. I knew her well. We spent hours together and she talked to me. She understood that she had to die so why would she hide anything?" Hal leaned forward and spoke slowly, his tone measured and calm, every word slicing into Cutler, shredding the last of his illusions._

"_She told me how much she loved you and how you treated her. How you moved her away from her family and friends, how you made sure she made no new friends. She hardly dared leave the house in case you came home and she wasn't there. She was terrified of making you angry. _

"_She knew you blamed her that she couldn't have children. You were wrong about that by the way, in case you didn't know. Oh, you have the paperwork, of course you know. Perhaps it was best she died, had you even considered that the child wasn't yours? You might want to think about that.  
><em>

"_And she knew about the whores. All of them and not just that you went with them but that you forced them. That you went from them to her, still smelling of their sweat and cheap scent._

"_And she still loved you._

"_I don't call that perfect, I call that deluded."_

_Cutler was still staring into the fire, he knew he truly loved Rachel, he'd been utterly, totally obsessed with her since he first saw her. Maybe he had deceived her – he'd deceived everyone – but they had been happy. He knew they had been happy. He would have known if she hadn't been. She would have told him.  
><em>

_Whatever she had told Hal it needn't have been true, she would have said anything to try and get back to her husband and Hal was only telling him this to gain some advantage. He couldn't possibly know what he had done; no one knew everything about him._

_He looked up at Hal and a tear ran down his face but Hal just shook his head._

"_Clever. The eternally grieving husband. You don't fool me as you've fooled everyone else. I know more about you than even you will remember."_

_He poured more brandy and sat back._

"_Tell me the truth Nick. Why did you do it? Not just Rachel and the tarts, all of it?"_

_Cutler looked at Hal for a long time before he answered._

"_Because I could."_

_Hal smiled._

"_And now you know why I choose you."_

* * *

><p>The way Hal had dissected his relationship with Rachel wasn't something Cutler often thought about, it was too painful but Gina's words had made him remember. Part of him wanted Gina to be his, always waiting for him as Rachel had but she would never stand for it and he would lose her. She always came back and he had to learn what it was like to be the one who waited and wondered.<p>

He looked over to where she was sitting; he could hear her laughter as she teased the man who had moved to sit beside her. Gina was clearly charmed by him; she had her hand on his arm and was leaning close to him, listening intently. He didn't look her usual type, he was older, medium height with sandy blond hair, someone you wouldn't look twice at in passing but he had certainly caught Gina's attention. The way she was looking at him was almost as if she were hypnotised. Cutler frowned, he'd been waiting for Gina to look over but she hadn't, she'd had long enough to make her point but she seemed unable to take her eyes off her new friend. As Cutler watched, increasingly curious, the man turned and raised his glass to Cutler. He smiled although it didn't reach his sharp blue eyes and as Cutler looked at him he realised. He was a vampire.

He was on his feet immediately, never mind if Gina was still angry with him, she needed to be warned. He walked over but before reached her the vampire stepped in front of him, holding out his hand.

"Mr Cutler I presume?" Cutler shook his hand warily. "I was coming to see you tomorrow; I've been told you are quite the expert in certain matters of property."

Cutler looked past him at Gina who was frowning.

"Oh, how remiss of me" the man chuckled. "Herrick, William Herrick. I'm terribly pleased to meet you. And your beautiful companion."

"And I you, Mr Herrick, and I'll be happy to talk to you tomorrow in my office."

Cutler wanted to get Gina away, he couldn't remember how he'd heard Herrick's name before but his instincts were telling him Gina wasn't safe. She was gathering up her bag and her jacket, she'd worked out what Herrick was by how he knew Cutler and she looked at him for guidance, her face serious and her eyes worried.

"Please excuse us, we must go, we have an engagement." Cutler took her arm and went to leave but Herrick was stood in their way. He took Gina's hand.

"Thank you for the pleasure of your company. Maybe we'll meet again." He lifted her hand and kissed it, turned it over and put his lips to the inside of her wrist, just for a moment before he let her hand go. Cutler felt Gina tense, he knew Herrick had felt her pulse, heard her blood as he did; and he realised that Gina was without the heavy silver bracelets she always wore. She even slept in them and he was sure she'd had them on earlier; he'd only ever seem her without them when she showed him her scarred wrists, the morning after they first met.

Herrick stepped to the side and allowed them to pass. Cutler turned as they went out of the door and he was watching them, the smile gone and his eyes calculating.

They were lucky and got a taxi straight away and once sat inside Cutler took Gina's hand and ran his fingers over her wrist.

"Where are your bracelets?"

She held up her handbag.

"They're in here, they're quite safe. I decided it was time I stopped hiding, you've taken off your wedding ring so I thought I could let my scars show." She forced a smile. "Although maybe I didn't pick my moment well. Who was that man? I gather he's like you."

"I don't know him although I'm sure I've heard the name before." He looked at the driver; he had to be careful what he might overhear. "He's not an Old One but he's much older than I am. I'll meet with him tomorrow so please stay away from the office and if you see him don't let him get close. You'll be safe at home."

She nodded, her instinct was to argue but this wasn't her world and she had to rely on Cutler to protect her. Much as she hated to be protected.

Back at Gina's house – she refused to go to his new flat, despite her help in furnishing it she always said his bed linens and gin weren't up to the quality she expected – she lit the fire and brought in whiskey. Cutler looked around, there were items of furniture missing and the room looked half empty.

"I've sold the house." Gina finished building up the fire and saw him looking around. "I needed to release some capital. I've bought a smaller place a few streets away. Really I should have moved by now but the new owner isn't in a hurry."

"Are you in trouble?" Cutler was concerned. "Do you need money?"

"No, of course not!" She laughed at him. "Not that I'd take yours anyway, I have no idea where it's been. Everything is fine but I do have something to tell you."

Cutler could see her eyes shining, she was excited and he couldn't help but think that this was not going to be good news for him.

"I'm starting my own practice as a counsellor. That's where I've spent most of my time for the last few years, training and qualifying. I'm finally ready to start up on my own. I'm going to try to help addicts, people like me." She got up to refill their glasses.

"That's... amazing." It was probably the last thing that Cutler had expected her to say but he could see the sense in it. Gina had helped him, more than he had realised at the time. She was still helping him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know, I suppose I was scared I wouldn't manage it, I didn't want to tell you I'd failed. It was easier to let you think I was still flitting around being decorative instead of attempting to be vaguely useful. Although I have managed to do a fair amount of amusing things too.

"I would have told you earlier but you were too busy treating me like an irresponsible trollop."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Gina put her fingers over his mouth.

"I'm teasing darling, I know you dream of a 1940s housewife but they're all out of stock right now. Trollop is all that's on offer."

She ran her fingers down his neck and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, running her warm hands over his cold skin. She pushed his jacket and shirt off his shoulders, trapping his arms behind him, laughing as he struggled to get them free. She kissed her way down his chest and then slid off the sofa to kneel on the floor beside him, undoing his belt.

He finally got his arms free and as he stoked her hair, his fingers on her throat feeling the familiar rhythm of her blood his mind found an image of Lizzie with her dark hair and her dead eyes.

"Gina."

"Now what?"

"Why are you with me? Is it really because you want to be or am I just some sort of curiosity?"

"You do ask stupid questions, do I ever do anything I don't want to? I'm here because of you – regardless of what you are, regardless of what you've done. Because of you."

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome. Now may I carry on? Nanny always told me it was rude to talk with my mouth full."

* * *

><p>Next morning Cutler was in his office early, he didn't want to be unprepared when Herrick arrived. He hadn't wanted to leave Gina, he had a nagging sense of concern that wouldn't shift and he'd lain awake most of the night watching her sleeping. She had curled up beside him, her head on his chest and her arms and legs wrapped round him. He only ever felt warm when he was with her. He'd woken her up when he left – she wasn't pleased – and made sure she intended to stay inside the house until he could get back.<p>

It was mid morning when Herrick arrived. He was genial and charming and although Cutler tried to resist he couldn't help being drawn in. He had a decanter of blood set out on the desk ready, he didn't drink every day now, but it was expected that he offered a drink to his clients, especially the older ones. He poured and Herrick held up the glass.

"Beautiful crystal. I imagine that is Hal's influence? He was always renowned for expecting the very best. Although your office isn't what I would have expected. It's... interesting."

He raised the glass to Cutler and they both drank.

Cutler had been searching his files and his memory for information about Herrick but had drawn a blank. All he could remember was that he'd been mentioned as being ambitious. He wasn't based in London so he didn't mix in any of the circles Cutler knew. He was no less wary though, he could read Herrick, he had no idea if he was a friend or an enemy.

"So, how can I be of assistance?" He wanted to get Herrick to the point and out of the office so he could go back to Gina.

"I'm looking at a particular property in Bristol. Technically it isn't for sale but I'd like you to make enquires and to see what can be arranged. In the meantime there are some other suitable places I want you to purchase for me. Obviously the paperwork needs to be in an alias that you will set up."

"Why not use someone local? I assume you have legal help there?"

"Of course." Herrick smiled but he didn't like being questioned. "I had to pay a visit to London, to check in on, well, lets say an acquaintance and you've been highly recommended. I'll be honest, I was curious. Any protégé of Lord Harry has to be worth a look."

"I'll do what I can." Cutler was writing a few notes as was his habit but Herrick leaned over and took the paper. He tore it up and put the pieces in his pocket.

"Nothing on paper." The smile had gone and his voice was cold. "Only whatever has to be done in the alias."

"Whatever you say." Cutler wasn't going to argue. "How soon do you want to proceed?"

"As soon as possible, if you can begin today that would be perfect." The smile was back and again Cutler had to concentrate not to be taken in by Herrick's charm. "I am leaving for Bristol now, my car is outside but you have an address where you can contact me."

He walked to the door, looking back at Cutler before he opened it.

"Don't bother to check the address, it won't get you anywhere."

Cutler walked over to the window and watched as Herrick got into a car outside, the driver pulling away immediately.

He sat down at the desk again and rewrote the notes that Herrick had torn up and put them in a new file. He would pass the properly purchases on to someone else to deal with in Bristol whether Herrick liked it or not but he'd think about the other enquiries. He didn't want to keep in contact with Herrick but he needed to know more before he risked offending him. He locked the files away, leaving everything else so he could get back to Gina's house, glad that the meeting was over and Herrick was gone.

He opened the front door, calling Gina's name but there was no reply. She wasn't downstairs but she often spent the morning in bed, as long as she had a pot of coffee, cigarettes and a book she could laze around for hours. He ran up the stairs and into her room, stopping in the doorway when he saw Herrick sitting on the window seat.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

Herrick chuckled.

"Now that is an interesting story. It turns out that your lovely Gina has sold the house and the new owners happened to be here. Their invitation worked just as well as hers would have done. Luckily they were just leaving, saved me having to dispose of the bodies."

As he turned Cutler noticed he had a raw scratch on the side of his face, it must be new as it had barely started to heal. Cutler heard a faint noise and turned to see Gina propped up on pillows in bed, her eyes wide and terrified, and a thin stream of blood running down her neck. She was so pale and Cutler just stared. What had he done? She was trying to speak but she was too weak and her eyes started to close.

He ran to her and held her, the smell of her blood was overwhelming him and he knew his eyes were black but he didn't want her to see. The marks in her neck were small and neat but Herrick's high colour told Cutler that he had left Gina with barely enough blood to stay alive.

Herrick stood up and picked up his gloves, looking at his hands. They were bleeding, covered in deep scratches from Gina's nails.

"Such a shame really, she's interesting and a fighter and for some reason she rather likes you. Never mind, she's not quite gone, you can still turn her."

He walked out on the landing and Cutler heard him chuckle again and he called back to him.

"Fergus sends his regards."


	5. 1972  the aftermath

**Hatred is the madness of the heart...**

**1972 – the aftermath  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Cutler stared at Gina, she was struggling to keep her eyes open and her body felt limp and boneless in his arms. His mind was blank in horror. What should he do?<p>

Herrick had said he could turn her but he couldn't. He'd vowed never to recruit and he knew he could not do that to Gina against her will and he had no idea if she would welcome it or not. The trickle of blood from her neck was slowing, he was watching her die.

She was almost gone and the realisation of what it would mean to lose her cleared his mind, there was something he could do. He picked her up, hurrying down the stairs. Her keys were in the hall and the car she rarely used outside and he carried her carefully down the steps, lying her down in the back seat.

Cutler never knew how he drove that day without hitting anything, all his attention was focused on the faltering beat of Gina's heart. He stopped at a house with a discrete brass plate outside, advertising a private clinic. He left the car abandoned in the road as he carried Gina inside shouting for help.

People appeared in the hallway, they tried to take Gina but he wouldn't let go of her and he kept walking.

"Fetch Doctor Thomas! Now, it's urgent!"

Someone went running and in moment Doctor Thomas appeared, he took in the situation at a glance, leading him into a small well equipped treatment room. Cutler laid Gina gently on the bed and Doctor Thomas pushed him out of the way.

"What's her name? How long has she been like this?"

"Gina. Her name's Gina. I don't know, not long. Please help her."

Doctor Thomas was looking at the wounds on Gina's neck, snapping orders at his nurse as he assessed her.

"Wait outside"

Cutler shook his head.

"No. I'm staying with her."

"I said wait outside." The Doctor's voice was firm and the nurse took Cutler's arm and pulled him towards the door. "I'll do what I can but she needs blood and you can't be here for that."

He wanted to resist but he had to trust them and with one last look at Gina he allowed himself to be lead to a small waiting room across the hallway. There were chairs but he couldn't sit and he paced up and down the small room. He knew Gina was in the best hands but he felt responsible, how could he not have realised that Herrick would have gone after her?

He'd known Doctor Thomas for years. It was useful to have a place where medical treatment could be obtained without complicated arrangements being made. Cutler made sure the clinic was generously funded and in return Doctor Thomas would treat unusual injuries without asking questions, finding ways of explaining what had happened. He experimented with drugs that hazed the memory and would even attend inquests. He was useful and highly skilled and unconcerned by the ethics of where the money came from. Cutler knew that he if it was possible to save Gina he would. At a price. Everything came at a price.

He stopped pacing and sat down – he knew he shouldn't stay, someone might start asking about him but he couldn't leave Gina. He looked at his hands, they were stained with her blood and although it had dried he could smell it. Now he was alone and he knew Gina was being helped the smell was impossible to ignore, it gnawed at him, clawed away at his self control.

Without conscious thought he lifted one hand to his mouth and licked away the blood, then the other one. The feeling was intense, not the ecstasy of living blood but beyond the softer satisfaction of the blood drained from victims to be served later. This was something different and the pleasure was sharp, it was as if he knew already what it would feel like, as if his body had been anticipating it. He leaned back in the chair, his eyes closed, trying to hold on to the feeling. It was... and he could find no other word for how he felt, it was as if it made him complete.

He let his mind drift, his usual watchfulness gone and he had no idea how long it was before he heard a cough. His eyes snapped open and saw Doctor Thomas standing in the doorway.

"She's alive. Just."

"Can I see her?"

"No. She's unconscious and will be for a while." Cutler was about to argue but the doctor carried on. "You need to leave. People are asking questions and I can't deal with this with you here. You've done enough."

"What do you mean – I've done enough? I brought her here"

"Maybe you did but you were almost too late. What happened? Did you suddenly change your mind?"

Cutler moved faster than he knew was possible and caught hold of the doctor by the throat, holding him off the floor.

"I did nothing. Keep your vile theories to yourself and do what you're paid to do." His eyes were black and his fangs bared and he savoured the terror he was causing.

"I will go, but for her sake not yours. I'll be back in a few hours and I expect to see her." He dropped Doctor Thomas on the floor. "If she dies, you will pay. I'll make sure of that."

He walked out; he hadn't felt so angry for many years, nor had he shown the vampire he was to anyone but a part of him had enjoyed the power and the fear. The pain over what had happened to Gina, the realisation that he had put her at risk and the snide assumptions of the doctor had built into a rage. He'd learned to subdue the anger and the fury that left him vulnerable to his true nature. It was the nature that Hal had shown him in the cage. It made him want to kill.

Someone had moved the car to the side of the road but left the keys in the ignition. Cutler got in but before he could start the engine the smell of Gina's blood from where she had lain and the faint traces of her perfume overwhelmed him. He tried to force it to the back of his mind, to ignore it but it was impossible, it was too strong. He got out again and started walking, fast and with his head down. He could hear heartbeats and blood as he passed people but he kept moving, not looking at anyone, not pausing for anything.

He finally reached his office; all he could think of was the decanter of blood that was waiting there. It might be enough to hold back the rage and the desire and he ran up the stairs searching his pockets for his keys. When he got closer he saw that the door was already slightly ajar and he pushed it open to see Herrick sitting at his desk.

At the sight of Herrick Cutler's rage and fury became too much to hold in and he launched himself at the other man, ready to tear him apart but he had underestimated him. Herrick was much older and stronger and he could easily break Cutler's hold. He pushed him against the wall and held him and even fuelled by anger there was nothing Cutler could do. He struggled for a while and then slumped. Herrick let go of him and stepped away, leaving Cutler on the floor.

He closed his eyes, all the progress he'd made and it felt worthless. At that moment he knew how easily he could embrace killing as Hal had done, revel in the blood and the death and the joy. He smelled blood and opened his eyes to see that Herrick was holding out a glass to him. He drained it and it quenched some of the fury, just enough to let him think, to consciously push away the anger and the desire. He didn't want to let the rage win. He would never let it win.

"I think we need to talk." Herrick was holding out his hand and Cutler took it, letting him help him up. "You intrigue me; you are not at all what I expected."

He passed Cutler another glass, pouring one for himself as well this time.

"Maybe I can help you."

"I doubt it, not after what you did to Gina."

"But that's exactly what I mean." Herrick sat down and gestured to Cutler to do the same which he did, instantly annoyed that he'd instinctively obeyed the more powerful vampire. Especially as Herrick was sat behind his desk, assuming an authority that seemed perfectly natural. He would listen though, Herrick was much older and he had many questions and no one to ask since Hal had gone. Maybe he could learn something from Herrick.

"Tell me what you did – did you watch her die or did you recruit her? I really can't guess and it's rare I'm puzzled by anyone. It's rather amusing."

"While I'm thrilled that I'm providing you with entertainment you're wrong. I did neither."

"Hmmm. Now you have me more curious." Herrick was smiling but his eyes were sharp and Cutler had to consciously resist the urge to tell Herrick anything he wanted to know. "Maybe you helped her on her way, took away the last of the pain. And the last of her blood"

Cutler made himself smile back and shook his head.

"Then you must elucidate. I can think of no other options."

"She's safe and still alive. She's being treated by a human doctor that I employ, somewhere you won't be able to find."

"Aha!" Herrick laughed, he looked delighted. "A tame doctor! What a very clever idea and how terribly useful. For that you shall keep your Gina, I need not go after her now, I've done what I promised.

"I owed Fergus and I wanted the slate clean. It doesn't sit well to be in debt to his type. He wanted you hurt; I could see no reason why except that he despises you and you must be wary. When I saw how you looked at the girl it was obvious what I should do. Just be thankful I left you options."

"Options? She almost died."

"But she didn't." Herrick shook his head. "This obsession with humans. I will never understand it. You are fooling yourself if you think it will end well. It can't. However long it takes, even if you think you can walk away, you will kill her in the end."

There was something in his voice that made Cutler look closer, somewhere in his eyes between anger and sorrow, almost disappointment. But the moment passed and Herrick's face was back to his genial smile, only belied by those razor sharp eyes.

Cutler reached for the decanter again but his hands were shaking and Herrick poured another glass for him.

"You should feed, where do you hunt?"

"I don't." Cutler emptied the glass. He felt calmer and the anger was back under control for the moment. "I manage without killing. It suits me."

"But you take blood. You let someone else kill for you." Herrick was intrigued. "It's an interesting compromise. Of course you are denying what you are and you know your nature will win in the end. If you can keep the need to kill at bay then you are more determined than most. I doubt you are strong enough."

He poured the last of the blood into their glasses. Cutler's hands had almost lost the tremor and this glass he sipped.

"How long have you known Gina?" Herrick put his empty glass down. "Fergus didn't mention her so I assume you met recently?"

"I've known her for ten years."

Herrick's eyebrows shot up, he looked genuinely surprised and he laughed.

"And you've never wanted to recruit her, to taste the blood you've heard for all those years? You want to watch her grow old while you are unchanged? See her ill and suffering?

"Maybe I have misjudged you, you are a fool."

Cutler didn't answer and without thinking he stretched out his hands, remembering what he had done earlier.

Herrick narrowed his eyes and then he realised what had happened.

"Ah. You carried her and her blood was on your hands. You may not have drunk from her but it doesn't matter. You know her, you care for her – maybe you even think you could love her.

"But now you have tasted her blood everything will be different.

"You can never go back to how it was."

* * *

><p>"<em>Fucking kill her."<em>

_Hal's words echoed in his head, over and over, they wouldn't go away. The weeks since he'd been changed were blurred and he was almost crazy with exhaustion. He couldn't sleep at night. He lay beside Rachel, feeling the heat of her skin, hearing her heart beat and the blood in her veins, desperate to taste it and feeling sick and revolted at the thought. He didn't dare touch her. He couldn't bear to close his eyes for fear of what he might do. When she turned to him in her sleep he turned away._

_He tried to sleep in odd moments when Hal was elsewhere, when he should be working, when he could hide away. It wasn't enough and when he did sleep his dreams were tormented. He saw the faces of the women he'd made pay for his services but in his dreams he never allowed them to walk away. He ripped their flesh apart to find their blood, torrents of it, hot and red and beautiful. In his dreams he fed until he could drink no more and then he tore the bodies to pieces._

_He'd barely touched Rachel since he'd been changed and he knew she was getting puzzled. She'd never say anything though, she never questioned him. He didn't allow it. He provided well for her and she wanted for nothing and in return he expected her to be the perfect woman he fell in love with the very first time he saw her. She was his angel. She always had been._

_After Hal and his men had left he had to finish cleaning out the boot of the car. It had become his job, it used to be one of the foot soldiers who cleaned up but Hal knew how the smell and the feel of the dried blood clawed at him. The only way to escape the chore was to be the one who killed and that he couldn't do. He knew it was expected but something stopped him. The revulsion was still stronger than the need and he wanted to hold onto some humanity, despite the ridicule. He had had blood from that night's sport but it had been barely enough to let him function and it had already gone. He'd finished it after he'd watched Hal effortlessly charm his wife, smiling at her and kissing her hand. She had smiled back, taken in by Hal's magic and he'd detested him for it. He hated seeing his wife smile at any other man, especially that one. Her smiles were his and his alone._

"_Fucking kill her."_

_He waited until he was sure Rachel would be asleep before going upstairs. Hal's words - and his instant refusal - were still ringing in his ears. He didn't want to think about how he would be punished for his disobedience. He carefully slid under the covers so he wouldn't wake her, lying right on the edge of the mattress, his back to Rachel, but as he settled he heard her quiet voice._

"_You look so tired, you are working too hard."_

_Her hand tentatively touched his shoulder but she took it away when she felt him flinch and she was quick to apologise._

"_I'm sorry." _

_He heard her sigh, she wouldn't try again. He disliked forward women and Rachel would always wait for him to come to her. She loved him and wanted to please him and it pleased him that her response was modest, that she wasn't like the women he saw in the courts and on the streets. It showed him just how worried she was that she had reached out to him. He had to reassure her but how? He could hear her heart and he was terrified he wouldn't be able to control himself. That he would bite into her soft skin searching for the hot blood he could hear and smell. Sometimes he thought that maybe he could make her what he was, they could find a way together but he had no idea how and he knew she might die._

_He had to focus on what was left of his humanity, push away the monster, just for a while. He turned over and gathered Rachel into his arms, her head on his chest so she couldn't see his face._

"_You're so cold. Mr Yorke should never have kept you so long. Whatever could be so important that it couldn't have waited until the morning?"_

"_I know. Maybe it could have waited but I could hardly turn him out." He kissed the top of her head, the heat of her body was warming his cold skin and he could feel himself starting to relax. "It's late, you should sleep."_

_She was used to doing what he said and she closed her eyes. He watched her as her breathing became more even and she relaxed against him. The arm that was holding him loosened and her hand turned so he could see the blue veins in her wrist. He lifted her hand and put his lips to the pulse he could see beating. He closed his eyes, the sound of her blood was louder and his fangs grazed her skin, just a single drop of blood rising to the surface. His eyes flew open, and he dropped her hand, horrified at how close he had come. _

_She murmured something but didn't wake and he froze, if he pushed her away she would wake and see him as he truly was with his eyes jet and pitiless. He didn't want to see her face if she saw that, he couldn't bear to watch her run away from him. Being able to hold her made him feel as if he was still the man she married. If he stayed awake, focussed on what he used to be he would be fine – and so would Rachel. But he was so tired._

_He woke from a dream of blood and flesh, a dream where he was bathed in blood, feeding endlessly, the blood going on forever. The feeling of power and ecstasy were still vivid and the need for more – always more – still sharp. He could hear a heart beating, the sound of blood rushing and smell the warmth of human skin. He was overwhelmed by the sensations and the need that he felt in his dreams. He took hold of Rachel, tearing at her nightdress, biting into her shoulders and pulling her head back by her hair to bare her throat. Of course she woke, struggling and fighting him, he had never known her resist and she was stronger than he'd ever realised._

"_Nick. Please stop. You're hurting me."_

_His mouth was on her neck, his fangs ready to tear into the arteries and veins, to drain every drop of the rich blood that he could hear and feel but her voice made him pause, just long enough for his grip on her hair to loosen. She moved enough to see his face and she screamed, pushing at him, breaking his hold in her desperation as she scrambled off the bed and backed across the room._

"_What's happened to you? What are you?" _

_He moved to go towards her but she screamed again at his eyes and his fangs and the expression on his face. She grabbed her dressing gown from the chair and ran. He heard her feet on the stairs and the front door slam shut. How could she run away? Where would she go? She had no friends nearby._

_It was only much later that he found out she had run to Hal._

"_Fucking kill her."_

_He often thought that maybe he should have done. _

_She would have suffered less._

* * *

><p>"I don't understand." Cutler was puzzled. "How can it be different?"<p>

Herrick stood up.

"It just is. You have always heard her blood but now you know what it tastes like. It will be impossible to resist."

"I can deal with it."

Herrick laughed.

"Somehow I think you might. For a while, anyway but in the end you'll fail. You'll kill her. It's what we do.

"Now, I can either go back to Bristol and leave you to worry or we can go and get a drink. In a pub. Preferably a decent brandy. Seeing as you don't hunt it seems the best offer I'm likely to get. Not to mention that I really need a drink before Seth drives me back to Bristol. It's the only way to cope with his interminable and utterly fascinating conversation! "

They spent a few hours drinking and talking. Cutler was well aware that he was being charmed but Herrick was good company and it stopped him thinking too much about Gina. They were surprised to find much common ground. Although much older than Cutler Herrick had also been recruited by an Old One and then left to fend for himself. Unlike Hal, Herrick's creator Hetty was still alive. Herrick didn't say as much but Cutler suspected that he had outlived his usefulness or amusement value to Hetty. He felt luckier in one way, at least in his case his maker had died and not just walked away from him.

Cutler took the chance to ask questions – well aware that Herrick answered as he pleased and as suited him but it was something he hadn't been able to do for some years. He had had to work hard to establish any kind of authority among the vampires without Hal and admitting ignorance was impossible. Somehow with Herrick it was OK to ask, he obviously liked the excuse to talk about the world he loved, and Cutler could see exactly what was meant when he'd heard him described as ambitious. Hearing another vampire talk so eloquently about how he saw their species and their existence gave him food for thought. Listening to someone who so thoroughly embraced what he was and for whom the human world was something to pity was completely fascinating.

The time passed quickly and the pub emptied around them and the landlord was preparing to close up. Herrick left for Bristol – the loquacious Seth having waiting patiently for him – and Cutler started to walk back to the clinic. Herrick had offered him a lift, knowing full well where he would be going but Cutler knew he could never entirely trust him and he didn't want him to know where Gina was being cared for.

It was very late when he walked into the clinic, there were just a few staff still around and he found Gina's room unobserved. Doctor Thomas was just coming out and he saw Cutler, going pale at the memory of what happened earlier. He was quick to reassure him.

"She's doing well, starting to regain consciousness but she has a long way to go." He saw the relief on Cutler's face; for once he didn't try to hide his feelings.

"I'll sit with her for a while. Make sure we are not disturbed."

The room was dimly lit, a lamp near to Gina's bed so Cutler could see her face. She was pale and her eyes were closed and he sat in the chair nearby, not wanting to wake her. He could hear her heart, the unique rhythm that was so familiar to him. He closed his eyes and let the sound fill his head.

He must have slept and when he next opened his eyes she was watching him, he could see her dark eyes fixed on his face. He moved, intending to go to her but she closed her eyes and turned her head away. He was taken aback, was she turning away from him? He sat back again, she was still ill and exhausted, and she needed rest. Everything would be fine when she was stronger.

He spent the night in her room, watching as she drifted between sleep and wakefulness. She didn't look at him again before he left just after dawn.

He returned again late the next night. He would have liked to be there all day but however much he worried about Gina he dare not compromise the clinic and Doctor Thomas. It was too useful and would be hard to replace. He had to be patient.

Doctor Thomas met him in the hallway, he had been watching for him and he looked scared. He stumbled over his words.

"Gina is fine, recovering well." He paused, biting his lip, before the rest of the words rushed out. "She doesn't want to see you."

"I don't believe you." Cutler's voice was flat. This wasn't Gina's decision. "It's you that doesn't want me here despite all that I do for you. It's inconvenient for you."

"No!" Doctor Thomas backed away. "Truly. She was insistent that I wait and stop you."

Cutler pushed past him and opened the door to Gina's room. She was still pale but was awake, half sitting up in bed and she gasped as the door flew open.

"Why don't you want to see me?"

Cutler stood beside her, hating to see her looking so ill. He gently stoked her face, feeling her tense and when her eyes met his he thought he saw fear. She turned her face away so he could imagine he was wrong and he took her hand instead, lifting it to his lips and kissing it.

There was a trace of blood on her wrist, left from one of the needles and he could smell it, the scent filled his head and the taste of her blood filled his mouth. He remembered it and he remembered how it would make him feel. His fangs touched her skin. Horrified he dropped her hand and looked at her, this was what Herrick had meant, and he couldn't ignore these feelings, they were too strong. He had to force himself to take a step away. She turned to face him, the fear in her eyes deepening. His eyes were black, something she hadn't seen since the night they met, and she put her hand over her mouth, stopping a cry of terror, flinching away from him.

He turned and ran.

Once he was outside he stopped, looking back across the road at the clinic. His eyes had cleared as soon as he was away from the smell of Gina's blood. He leaned on a wall and lit a cigarette. What should he do now?

He wasn't sure what had scared him the most – the terror on Gina's face or the desperate need for her blood. Both were new but he was sure he could manage the need now he knew what it felt like. He would never forget her face as she tried not to scream at him. Rachel had done that and the next time he saw her she was dead. Gina had never been scared of him before and it had hit him harder than he could have ever imagined.

The next few days seemed to last forever. He had work he had to do but dealing with the investments and properties of vampires was tedious and took little concentration so he did the minimum that he could and took on no more new work. He didn't need the money after all. At night he walked, pacing through the dark streets – anything was better than his dreams. He hadn't dreamed of Rachel for days, now what he saw in his sleep alternated between seeing Gina's terror and how it would feel to drain every drop of her blood. Neither helped his state of mind.

Doctor Thomas kept him informed and he knew when she had recovered enough to be discharged to rest at home. He spent the day thinking about seeing her and deciding that it was a bad idea but that night he found himself outside her house. There were no lights on, she was probably sleeping and he stood for a while wondering what to do. He missed her, more than he ever had when she'd been away as he'd always known she'd come back. He climbed the steps to the front door and looked through the window into the hall. It was completely empty and now he was closer he realised the windows had no curtains. She'd gone.

It took most of the next day to find her new address, he remembered her telling him she was moving but he hadn't known where. His legal contacts produced the details for him by the end of the day and again he had a decision to make. Really there was no debate – he had to try and see her.

When she opened the door she didn't look surprised, it was as if she had expected him. She looked drawn but less pale and she took a step back from the open door.

"Why won't you see me? I miss you. I need you."

"I can't, not now." Gina met his eyes but kept her distance. "I'd forgotten what you are even though you always said I must remember you aren't human. Somehow I'd managed to think you were different but Herrick made me realise that I should be scared."

"I would never hurt you."

"But you have. Herrick came for me because of you. Who knows what else might happen because of you. You could kill me any time you choose and it would be perfectly natural for you."

Cutler couldn't answer that. It was all true. He tried to take hope from the fact that she hadn't slammed the door.

"Will you ask me in so we can talk?"

"No."

"Will you meet me somewhere, let me try to explain?"

"No"

"Will you ever come back to me?"

"I don't know. Maybe, one day. Maybe not." She reached out to start to close the door. "Please go Nick. I can't talk to you now."

He started to turn away as she began to close the door but she was close enough to touch and he reached out to her, wanting to feel her skin one last time. For a moment she didn't move but then slowly she held out her hand.

His fingers reached the invisible barrier that stopped him entering her home.

"Please ask me in"

She shook her head but she reached closer to him and he pushed his hand against the force keeping him away from her. His skin started to blacken and burn, tiny flames appeared at the ends of his fingers and he snatched his hand back. The agony was intense and unexpected, he had no idea that that was what would happen and Gina was backing away, looking at his charred fingers in horror

"Just go Nick, before we both end up more damaged than we already are."

He turned and walked away; looking back just once, thinking he would never see Gina again but she had closed the door. He stood for a moment, she came to the window and he almost started back toward to house but she hadn't seen him and she closed the curtains.

He started walking, clutching his burnt hand against his chest, the pain cutting into him. He knew there was only one thing that would stop the pain.

He walked through the streets, seeking out the dark alleys and the places that most people avoided. He knew exactly what he was looking for and it wasn't long before a small figure stepped out of the shadows.

"You looking for business?"

She was young and skinny and he could smell the drugs in her blood. There was no one else around and so he nodded. She was desperate and instead of assessing his expensive suit and upping her price she took so little from him that he almost walked away from her in pity. But he didn't and he let her lead him to a dark doorway off the main street. He wondered for a moment if he should let her continue with the act he had paid for but her grey skin and lank hair were unattractive and instead he caught her by the throat. He tore away her skin, feasting on the blood that flowed almost faster than he could drink and then let her body drop. He wiped his mouth, waiting for the revulsion to hit him but for once it didn't, just the sorrow of death mixed with the joy of the blood. His fingers were tingling and he knew the blood was healing the burns. He would need more but that was easy.

He leaned over the girl's body and closed her eyes, smoothing her hair and straightening her clothes before he walked away.

The feeling of the fresh blood made him feel whole in a way that nothing else ever had.

All those years he'd tried to be different. All the years he'd wanted to be with Gina, wanted to be human with her. He'd though she understood him, accepted him. How much else had he been wrong about?

All those years.

Wasted.


	6. 1982

**Hatred is the madness of the heart...**

**1982**

Cutler had been back in London for less than a week and he was sat in a cafe, enjoying a surprisingly good cup of coffee and reading the newspapers. He'd given up his office years ago and had nothing pressing to attend to. He could do anything he wanted and right now he wanted to relax and watch the world go by. It was odd being back in London, he'd been away for four years on this latest trip and although his face never aged or changed everything else about him had. He'd bought his suit and his shoes in Italy and his shirts in Paris and he was well aware of the approving glances from a smartly dressed woman at the next table. It would be so very easy to smile and invite her for dinner, for drinks and then... But he didn't need to feed tonight so why make life complicated? Anyway, she looked as though someone would miss her.

He finished the Telegraph and folded it neatly; it was full of the Falklands War which held no interest for him. Typical humans, fighting over a tiny island full of penguins, what level of ambition did that show? He smiled, he sounded like Herrick.

He looked over to the counter where the waitress was perched on a stool and pointed at his empty cup. She jumped to get him a fresh espresso and he watched her as she hurried. The last few years had given him an air of authority which he still relished after all the times he'd been ridiculed by the older vampires. Not that they treated him much better these days, it was just that he cared less.

The waitress put his fresh coffee down. She was tall and slim and her heavy black eyeliner and jet black spiky hair just made her blue eyes seem brighter.

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Thank you but this will do for now."

She grinned at him and put a paper napkin down by his cup.

"Well don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do for you. Anything at all."

She winked at him as she left and when he picked up the napkin he found she'd written her name and phone number on it in eyeliner pencil. He was finding it hard to cope with how girls – women – were changing and there were times that it made him feel every one of his 68 years. Of course in many other ways it made life much easier, hunting in London was going to be much more fun.

At the thought of the hunt he felt the craving rise, just for a moment. He had it well controlled now and much as he hated to admit the others were right it was only since he had been killing for blood that he could do that. He killed when he felt he needed to. Sometimes he wanted to hunt over and over again, nights when there couldn't be enough blood, but nowadays he rarely found the need so pressing and he could go a long time between kills. He still felt the sorrow of the life lost but he was what he was and there was no point in trying to be anything else. It was only the occasional frenzy, the rage that he had never entirely lost that caused the revulsion. If he looked at a body he'd savaged in the blind need that Hal had created in him then he was still sick to his stomach at the devastation he could cause. A neat and tidy kill, managed and controlled, that was different and he could leave the bodies as if they were only sleeping.

He picked up the Guardian and started to read, skimming through the articles, glancing at the photos. He was turning a page when a word jumped out and he looked back. The article was about new approaches to drug treatment, and hadn't caught his eye but when he ran his eyes down the text he realised it was Gina's name he'd seen. He went back to the start and read the article again more carefully. Gina had written a book – a popular but credible study of rehabilitation and from what he read she was enjoying a touch of fame alongside some considerable professional success.

It felt strange to read that she had had a life without him, and a successful life. A life that anyone meeting the flighty Gina he'd first known could never have predicted. There was nothing personal about her in the piece but it mentioned a book launch and signing that evening and without thinking about what he was doing he carefully tore out the article and folded it, tucking it into his wallet for safekeeping.

He pulled out some notes and left them under the saucer – an extremely generous tip that the waitress noticed him leaving. He stood up and she waved and blew him a kiss and almost as an afterthought he picked up the napkin with her name on it and put it in his pocket. It might just be useful.

It was a perfect day. Not too bright and the sky was a pale English blue as he walked along the river, looking at the changes since he was last here. He almost thought 'last home' but was London really home anymore? He'd been on the move for years, exploring and discovering new places but he'd been drawn back. Was it the place or the memory of who he used to be that was the cause? Was there any point in even wondering? It didn't matter.

As he walked past the Savoy he remembered how he and Rachel had walked here often. She always wanted him to buy her tea in the hotel and he'd always said no, it was too expensive. He wished he had now. He smiled at the memory, Rachel didn't rule his thoughts and dreams as she used to and most of the memories were of pleasure instead of pain. He'd vowed to move on and when he'd first returned to Paris, the place they'd spent their honeymoon, he dropped his wedding ring into the Seine from the Pont Neuf.

He had thought more often of Gina than Rachel. There had been times when he wondered if she had survived after what Herrick had done. He had left her so weak he would not have been surprised if she hadn't lived much longer. He doubted that though, maybe she really was the indestructible one of the two of them as they had often joked. He remembered how she had accepted him totally as he was and how she would accept no excuses or evasions from him. She'd made him no promises or commitments but he'd thought she would always be there. He couldn't forget the terror in her eyes and the determination with which she'd refused to allow him into her home and he knew that a wise man would stay away from her. But he knew where she was going to be and he had never been wise where Gina was concerned.

He was used to hearing the heartbeats and the blood of the humans that surrounded him, he found it oddly comforting and it helped him gauge his need. When the sound became intrusive, when he obsessed about a heartbeat, fixating on one among the throng, then he knew it was time. He had thought he wouldn't need to kill for some time – the intervals got ever longer – but maybe it was the familiar surroundings, the memories of Gina and Rachel, even of Hal that were working on him. Whether he saw Gina or not he would need to feed first. He had no idea how the sound of her heart would affect him – it was a sound he had never forgotten. That and the taste of her blood. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning on the wall apparently looking down at the river. The memory of that taste always turned his eyes black and it wouldn't do for that to be seen.

He idled away the afternoon, stopping in a gallery, drinking coffee and then wine as it got later, waiting for dusk. He'd got used to finding ways to spend his time on his travels but this afternoon seemed to last forever. He was getting bored. The years of leisure had been pleasant and necessary to reinvent himself and leave his past behind but now it wasn't enough to occupy him. He had always worked hard at school and at university and once he was qualified he'd put in long hours. Even after Hal he'd kept working. He'd relished the break but now he needed to be busy again. He needed a goal, something to work towards. Perhaps that was why he'd come back.

It was getting dark and he had to make some decisions. First he needed to eat. And to feed. He had the waitresses' number but he had no time to spend with her tonight, he'd save her for a day when the chase was as important as the catch. Tonight all he needed was the blood. As was his habit he walked the streets were the girls lingered, not the obvious ones where they worked together and looked after each other but the darker places where the outcasts and the desperate sold themselves. They were rarely missed and never mourned. He was putting their wretched existence to an end and maybe it was a relief. They hardly even fought. It was almost too easy.

The book launch was being held in the publisher's offices – a rather more sophisticated set up than Cutler had been expecting. This wasn't a dry academic affair, Gina's book had reached the popular press and the launch was rather glossy. He waited outside for a while, watching people arriving and wondering if he was being foolish. Maybe he'd just go in and have a look. Other guests were offering invitations to the greeters but Cutler walked past with confidence and took a glass of champagne from the table. No one challenged his right to be there. He found a good vantage point and despite people attempting to engage him in conversation he stayed quiet, listening to the heartbeats until he could pick out the one that he knew so well. She was here.

There were some speeches but he didn't really listen and he couldn't see who was speaking from where he was standing and it was only when he heard Gina's voice that he paid attention. She spoke briefly, she made them laugh and she made them think and the applause was warm. He still couldn't see her though.

Eventually the crowd thinned a little and he moved so he could finally look at her, sitting at a table chatting to anyone who approached her, signing books for them if they asked. She looked older – and he realised it was twenty years since they had first met and she must be almost 50. She really hadn't changed that much, there was a trace of silver in the dark hair and the few lines on her face were from smiling. He edged a little closed and he smiled. While everyone else had dressed up for the launch, Gina – of course – had gone the opposite way. She was wearing old jeans and a plain white shirt, he'd never seen her so casually dressed but her boots had the high heels he remembered and her jewellery was familiar. She was wearing the same heavy silver bracelets on her wrists and now she had a matching choker and he realised it must be hiding the scars that Herrick had left.

He should go now that he'd seen her. It would be unfair to speak to her, to put her in that position in public. Now he knew she was OK, more than OK, he could leave.

There was no one at her table and she sat sipping from glass of red wine. She looked tired and she tipped her head forward, closing her eyes for a moment. Before he realised what he was doing he was beside the table, picking up a book and opening it, putting down in front of her. Without looking up she reached for her pen.

"Who shall I make it out to?"

"To Nick."

Her head flew up, her dark eyes huge and fixed on his face. She sat totally still for what felt like forever and he almost turned to go. Then she smiled. She thought for just a moment and then wrote; closing the book and pushing it back across the table. He opened the over and read what she had written. '_To Nick. Amor es meus, in aeternum. Gina_'

There was something else scribbled under her flamboyant signature and he laughed out loud when he read it. '_He never calls... He never writes..._'

* * *

><p><em>It had only been a few short hours and already he was hungry. He was shaking with the unfamiliar need. Hal had given him glasses of blood every half an hour from the time he woke, giving him no choice about drinking it, and it had reinforced the desire. If he'd been left alone the need for blood would have grown naturally – if anything about him was still natural – and might never have become so sharp, so piercing. Yet another thing that he came to blame Hal for in the many years he had to think about how his maker had made him what he was. He quite deliberately created a need in Cutler that was so strong it couldn't be mastered.<em>

_Hal had talked and talked, weaving words around what he was, what he had made Cutler, how they would be. There was little that Cutler could comprehend yet, all he was coming to understand was that he was dead and yet still alive. All he really knew was the agony of need._

_He had no idea how long he had been in the basement listening to Hal, it felt like no time at all and eternity. It was much too long since Hal had given him the last of the blood and he could feel a clawing, as if something was pulling him apart from inside in a desperate desire for more._

_Hal had stopped talking, he was watching closely and he could see that Cutler was shaking, flinching as the waves of need hit him. He could judge it so well, the moment was almost here. _

"_We need to leave, we have an appointment." He stood up. "Actually – __**you **__have an appointment." _

_He handed Cutler his jacket. He put it on, it was crumpled and he did what he could to smooth it out and he pushed his hair back off his face. He knew he looked a mess compared with the obsessively immaculate Hal. Hal watched and frowned._

"_Tie please Mr Cutler. This isn't the seaside."_

_Cutler put his tie on and knotted it but it wasn't to Hal's satisfaction. He walked over and buttoned Cutler's collar and tightened the knot of his tie, running his hands down the lapels of his jacket._

"_I suppose that will have to do." He turned to leave. "Come. Do not loiter."_

_Cutler followed Hal through the cellars and up a flight of stairs. There was a half open door that lead through to a pub and he could just see the sky through the tops of the opaque windows. Hal walked past this door along a wood panelled corridor to the back of the building. He opened another door leading to a small bar, it looked almost like any pub but somehow it felt different. It was empty and on one of the tables was a crystal decanter of blood and a single glass. Cutler's eyes were drawn to the decanter – the blood glowed and he could smell it and the tremors got worse but he daren't try to get closer, he had to wait and see what Hal said first._

_Hal sat, fussily adjusting the creases of his trousers to make sure they remained immaculate, leaving Cutler standing in the middle of the tiled floor. The door flew open again and Fergus came in, half carrying and half dragging a young woman. Her eyes were almost closed and her legs wouldn't hold her and when he put her down she crumpled onto the floor._

"_Thank you Fergus. I see that you have ensured our guest is well refreshed."_

"_Of course My Lord, after all it wouldn't do for her to be able to run."_

_The two men laughed together which just increased Cutler's confusion, he was distracted by the blood but he knew something was happening._

"_Thank you Fergus." Hal waved him away. "I will call you when it is all over."_

_Hal poured a glass from the decanter and sipped it and the scent of the blood made Cuter want to scream. He needed it more than he had ever needed anything before. Hal smiled._

"_Mr Cutler. I know that you are hungry. You need blood. She has blood._

"_Kill her."_

_Cutler couldn't speak – the horror of what Hal had said fought with the need. He couldn't kill her. He didn't know how to. He couldn't move._

"_Come Mr Cutler, why so shy? You know that you want to."_

_Cutler looked down at the girl, without realising he licked his lips but he still couldn't move._

_Hal tutted and stood up._

"_I see I am going to have to get you started."_

_He walked over to the girl and pulled her to her feet, she didn't resist and her head fell back exposing her throat. Cutler stared, he could see the pulse beating and hear something, something new. He realised it was her heart – he could hear her heartbeat echoing through his head. He watched as Hal slowly put his mouth to her neck, carefully biting into her skin and taking just a mouthful of her blood. He lifted his head and suddenly pushed her towards him so Cutler instinctively caught hold of her. The smell of the fresh blood on her neck was too much. As if someone else was controlling his movements he lowered his mouth to the wounds that Hal had left and bit gently into them._

_The blood flowing into his mouth was a revelation; it brought an ecstasy that was beyond words. He bit deeper and deeper, less careful in his need and when the flow of the rich hot fluid started to slow he torn the skin, ripping into her with his teeth to chase the faltering stream. He felt her heart stop but he couldn't – he tore further and further into her warm flesh, desperate to find the last traces of blood, unwilling to waste a single drop. When he was sure there was nothing more he let the limp empty body fall._

_He stood with his eyes closed, savouring the feeling, he felt strong and alive – no, more than that. He felt invincible. He heard Hal clapping his hands slowly._

"_Bravo Nick. You show promise. And I can assure you that although the first time is special it will get better and better. You are one of us now."_

_Cutler opened his eyes, Hal's approval felt good and he smiled. He looked down and the smile froze on his face as he saw the body at his feet. She was unrecognisable; it looked as though she had been savaged by a wild animal. He had done that._

_He felt sick and he retched, hand over his mouth and he turned away from Hal, desperate not to let him see him vomit. He wanted to expel the horror of what he'd done but he managed not to, the horror of humiliating himself in front of Hal was much worse._

"_And now the disappointment." Hal's voice was cold. "I had high hopes for you but you have much to do to fulfil them. This behaviour will not help."_

_He walked over to the body and turned it over with his foot, exposing more of the tears and the damage that Cutler had done and he retched again._

"_This human sympathy is misplaced and I will not have it. She was nothing. She was just there to satisfy your need. You will learn._

"_You will have to if you wish to survive."_

"_No. Never." Cutler managed to speak. "Not like this"_

_Hal shook his head as he walked to the door to call for Fergus._

"_You should remember her. Every man remembers the first time he killed."_

_Even through the sickness and the knowledge that he had failed Hal Cutler realised that there was something that his maker didn't yet know._

_This wasn't the first time._

* * *

><p>Gina came outside, looking around for Cutler who was waiting for her across the street. She had pleaded exhaustion as an excuse for leaving her own party early but she'd insisted that she had to be seen to be leaving alone.<p>

They didn't speak but she slipped her arm through his, tucking herself close into his side as she always used to, just as he unconsciously adjusted his stride to allow for her high heels.

After Cutler guided her around the corner she finally spoke.

"Are you kidnapping me or am I allowed to know where we're going?"

"My hotel is nearby. There's a perfectly adequate bar that stocks your favourite brand of gin."

"Why would you know that? Have you been planning on abducting me all along?"

"I checked when I arrived." He realised that he had done that before he even knew that Gina was alive and in London, let alone that he could see her. "I always check."

She didn't answer but she when he glanced down he saw she was smiling.

They didn't speak much more until they were settled in the bar. It was quiet and they found armchairs in a corner where they could talk without being overheard.

"It is good to see you Nick. I wondered if I'd ever see you again." Gina reached over and took his hand. "I tried your office and your flat but you just disappeared." She was turning his hand over, looking at his fingers.

"You're still so cold but the burns have healed, there isn't even a scar."

"We always heal." He caught hold of her fingers so she couldn't pull her hand away again. "Are you still frightened of me?"

She looked at him for a while before she shrugged.

"I probably should be. You warned me on that first day, you said I must never forget you aren't human but I think I chose not to remember it. When I saw you in the hospital I realised that you were like Herrick. He enjoyed what he did to me, it was absolutely terrifying and you were the same as him."

"We are not the same. Not even slightly."

"Well, you know what I mean. I almost died. That wasn't something I was going to forget in a hurry."

"Did you really look for me?"

"Stop fishing." She emptied her glass and held it out to him. "Another drink please and then I want to know where you've been and what you've been doing."

He went to the bar and as he waited he half turned so he could watch Gina. He wouldn't have been surprised if she disappeared while his back was turned but she seemed comfortable enough, rummaging through her handbag for cigarettes. He didn't want to talk about himself yet; there were many things he couldn't tell her and many more she would be horrified to hear. He needed time to decide what to say. She had always known when he was dissembling or making excuses, even after all this time he doubted he could fool her.

When he sat down again he asked her about her book and her career, wanting to shift her thoughts away from how she had been so sacred of him. She told him how her work had developed and from her start as a counsellor she now worked with larger clinics, advising them on their programmes while still taking on a few clients of her own. It was clear how much she loved her work and how it occupied all her time and he smiled as he watched her gesturing, how she leaned over to him making sure he understood what she was saying. He could hear the familiar rhythm of her heart under her words and he sat back and watched her, letting the words wash over him, just happy to be near her.

He realised she'd stopped talking. She raised her eyebrows at him and grinned.

"Clearly this is nowhere near as fascinating for you as it is me. Before you doze off, tell me where have you been? How have you been?"

He told her about his travels, the countries he had explored and the places he had seen, some of which she knew herself. He didn't mention the vampires he'd been meeting and the network he was building with a view to... Well, he wasn't quite sure what yet, but he knew a lot more about his world than he had done. He knew enough to start to plan.

Gina had been asking him about the galleries and museums he'd seen in Italy, he knew it was her favourite destination but her work had stopped her from visiting for some time. He wondered if he could take her but it was too complicated, and possibly too dangerous for her.

"It's odd isn't it, how we've swapped over." Gina took another cigarette out of the pack and he lit it for her. "You're flitting about in exotic places while I have my nose to the grindstone."

"I intend to open a new office soon." Cutler surprised himself, he hadn't really thought about this yet. "It might not be in London though. Would you like me to let you know where?"

"Of course. You can contact me through my publishers. They'll pass on messages and letters."

"So you won't tell me where you live. You are still scared."

"Just wary. It's been ten years, Nick, and not a word from you in all that time. What would you have me do? Swoon into your arms like some Victorian maiden, crying all down that rather lovely suit and telling you that all is forgiven? I don't think you've earned that yet."

He sat back, he felt as if she'd slapped him. He could carry on as if nothing had changed, why couldn't she? What did he have to do to?

"Oh dear. I'd forgotten how you sulk." Gina was laughing at him. "How old are you? Almost 70 if I remember right, you should have grown out of that by now."

He went and got more drinks. He never sulked; and anyway, she was the one who was being unreasonable.

"Tantrum over?" Gina leaned over and lowered her voice, even though there was no one sitting near them. "Now tell me how you really are. Are you still able to manage your needs? Are you coping?"

"Yes. As always."

Her dark eyes met his and she looked at him, it was as if she could read his mind and he was pretty sure she knew there was more that he wasn't saying. She frowned but she didn't question it and she let him change the subject. Anything to distract him from thinking about her blood. He had been right to feed, the fresh blood helped him subdue the memories. He wanted to taste Gina's blood more than he could say but he wanted to be with her more. As long as he kept feeding she would be safe and he would be able to resist. He had to be careful though, if he relaxed too much the old savage need would take over.

They talked about old times, places they'd been together, reminded each other of shared jokes, avoiding anything that night be awkward by common consent. It was very late – or very early - and Gina yawned.

"I'm tired. No stamina nowadays, I must be getting old."

"You'll never be old. You don't look any different to when you tried to seduce me in that bar, flashing your legs at the waiter. You were a dreadful hussy!"

"Liar!" Gina laughed. "Charming and lovely but all lies. Do you have any idea just how irritating it is to see you looking exactly the same? Admittedly you're better dressed and you've finally got a decent haircut but you still look the same."

She yawned again.

"Let me get you a cab. I know you won't let me take you home."

"No. Don't do that." She reached over and took both his hands. "I want to stay with you. Just for tonight."

* * *

><p>When he had fallen asleep Gina had already been sleeping for a while, her head against his chest as he watched her, but when he woke she had gone. He reached out across the bed but she was not beside him.<p>

He heard a movement and sat up to see Gina sitting in a chair, smoking and watching him. She was dressed and when she saw he was awake she sighed.

"There's something different about you, I don't know what it is but you've changed. I didn't see it earlier, I thought you were still the same." She put out her cigarette. "I'm not sure I want to know the answer to this but you're killing aren't you?"

Her dark eyes were fixed on his, her face serious and he didn't want to lie to her. He stayed silent but he couldn't deny it.

"I thought so. It's the only explanation I could think of. You seem colder, crueller. You asked me if I was still scared and I don't want to be, not of you, but if you're killing then I must be. I have to be terrified.

"I was going to go while you were asleep but it didn't seem fair."

He wanted to argue with her, make her stay but he knew she had made up her mind. Maybe if he let her go now she'd come back one day. Maybe Herrick had been right and if she stayed he would eventually kill her. He had to let her go.

There was one thing he needed to ask.

"What you wrote in the book. Did you mean it? You know it was..."

"...what was in Rachel's wedding ring? I remember. And yes I do mean it. But it doesn't give us any right to a happy ever after. That won't happen. It can't."

She got up and picked up her bag.

"I'm leaving now. I'd like to think I'll see you again but you have your own life now with your own kind and it can't include me.

"You'll be young forever and I don't want you to watch me getting old and useless.

"I couldn't bear it."


	7. 1992

For Cutler 1992 was the year that everything changed...

(I may have taken a little liberty with the "20 years earlier" caption to S3E7. Don't shoot me!)

* * *

><p><strong>Hatred is the madness of the heart...<strong>

**1992**

The room was still littered with steamers and balloons, empty bottles and glasses on the floor. Cutler stayed in his seat in the corner watching Herrick as he paced up and down in the cage, expounding his theories. He smiled as he emptied the whiskey bottle into his glass. Herrick never missed an opportunity for a speech.

He had been thinking of the fights Hal had forced him to attend, how the blood and the death had revolted him and how much he had changed since then. It wasn't his favourite way to spend his time but at least now he could manage to stay to the end without having to run outside to be sick. Which was a good job as Herrick had a sharp eye for any weakness he could exploit while Cutler saw it as a challenge that Herrick would find no weakness in him. It was a game – they both knew what the other was doing and both were equally stubborn.

Herrick threw a bottle of water to the man huddled in the corner of the cage and locked the gate. He dropped the bloody knife on the table in front of Cutler and picked up his own glass.

"You're slipping. You missed out the Children of Darwin."

Herrick chuckled.

"Oh I'll come back to that. He needs a little time to adjust. Why waste all the best words on him now?"

"You're keeping him then? Presumably not just as an audience for your new speeches"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Herrick looked back over to the cage. "I'm not sure he's got much fighting spirit, just more than his fair share of luck. I have some contacts here with a handy cellar – they can hang onto him for the month. He might not be any use for another fight but watching his first transformation might be amusing and I'll let him go afterwards.

"I can't imagine he'll do much damage and it'll be interesting to see if he gets caught.

"He looks to be a bit brighter than poor old Alan. Professional man. Married. Dreadful suit though. "

Cutler smiled. The plan was all very Herrick but he'd been thinking too. He'd never really considered what use werewolves could be. They'd always been rare and the cage fights had lapsed over the years until Herrick had found a way to restart them. It wasn't rocket science – he set up humans to get scratched and then separated them from the werewolf before any more damage was done. It was dangerous work and it had taken a lot of time to prefect the technique – and a lot of collateral damage – but now he had it sorted. He kept the details to himself; even Cutler didn't know exactly how he managed it. It was another little piece of power for him.

Cutler had decided it would be useful to keep track of the news reports. It was easy enough to link the seemingly random attacks if you knew what you were looking for, especially with access to legal documents and police records. For now it would just be information gathering but in time everything could be useful.

Herrick nodded at the young female vampire asleep beside Cutler with her head on the table.

"Did she look after you? I asked her to attend to your every need."

He often dangled women in front of Cutler to see how he would react. Sometimes he played the game and used the women as they seemed to want him to – or had been instructed to - and sometimes he chose to send them away. He wasn't particularly interested in any of them it was all about keeping Herrick guessing. He never saw any of them again; often he didn't bother to ask their names. Some proved a brief moment of distraction but he preferred to be alone. None of them could match up to Gina or to the memory of Rachel.

"She did, yes. She was remarkably attentive. Dedicated, you might say."

Herrick smiled, he hadn't needed to ask. His sharp eyes missed little and he knew exactly what had happened at Cutler's secluded table. Sadly though, it wasn't enough to use against the younger man. One day he'd find someone who could get into his head as that human girl had once done, the one Cutler had been so desperate to save. He could use that sort of influence over Cutler as Herrick had a feeling he was someone who would pay watching.

"I was wondering." Cutler had realised he didn't know much at all about the set up of the cage fights and he was interested. "Why not hold the fights in Bristol?"

"Too messy. Bristol's a big city and there's a pretty good chance the fights would be noticed. There is only so much we can cover up so it is foolish to take any unnecessary risks."

That made sense but Cutler still had questions.

"What makes this place any safer?"

"Here? Barry?" Herrick laughed. "Look around you – who cares about what happens here? No one has even heard of this place."

Cutler looked at him, Herrick wasn't meeting his eyes so he knew there was more and he pressed on.

"But why here?"

Herrick sighed.

"You are annoyingly tenacious sometimes. Very well, it's because of the Old Ones. For some reason no one can quite remember this is where they come and go on the rare occasions they come to the UK. They keep a presence here, a representative, just in case. It makes it a place where we can gather with reasonable impunity – no one is in charge here, there are no territorial issues."

Cutler hadn't heard this before and he filed the information away in his mind. He would go back to it later and slot it into place with the other facts about the Old Ones he had gleaned. He and Herrick talked of them often among their many topics of conversation, especially since he had spent much of the last few years in Bristol. He would hesitate to say they were friends but Herrick was useful and interesting. Despite the way the older vampires treated Herrick - they seemed to see him as part mad, part nuisance and part threat - he was incredibly aware of the politics of their world and he was ambitious. Cutler had learned a lot but it was time for him to move on again. All he had to decide was where to. He needed to find his own place, somewhere he could be noticed, become respected without Herrick or Hal to defer to.

Herrick clearly thought he had said enough and he excused himself. He needed to find Seth and arrange to have the new werewolf transported to wherever he intended to keep him.

Cutler walked outside, it was still early, the sun not fully up yet and he got in his car to drive back to Bristol. He never got involved in the cleaning up. The fact that Hal had used the chore as a punishment for him still rankled and anyway, Herrick had more than enough willing lieutenants to do his dirty work. It was the return of one of one of Herrick's faithful followers that was prompting Cutler's decision to move. He had never met Mitchell, he'd been away in Europe – Herrick said he had things to get out of his system. Cutler took that as a euphemism for getting away from Herrick but he kept his observation to himself. He'd heard all the stories about him, both admiring and not, but now Mitchell was due back and it was bound to get chaotic. According to the other vampires who were prepared to talk about Herrick and Mitchell it always did and he wanted no part of it. Let them squabble and fight and even kill each other if they wanted to but he wouldn't risk that sort of exposure.

He didn't think he could learn much more from Herrick anyway. He could be excellent company and while they had never fully trusted each other they had talked about their world and Herrick had been generous with his advice. Cutler had continued to travel and when he'd met other vampires he'd tested Herrick's knowledge and found most of what he'd told him was reliable. That had surprised him. Maybe Herrick thought more of him than he realised.

The one subject they never discussed was Gina. Cutler didn't want Herrick to know they were still in touch and Herrick showed no signs of guessing. Cutler hadn't seen her since the night of the book signing, when she had realised he'd become a killer and had walked away from him. Although she avoided his occasional invitations to meet she had never broken contact with him. She sent him occasional letters and lots of postcards, telling him stories about what she was doing and he responded when he could, although it was difficult to know what he could tell her. She'd known he'd been killing ten years ago and he was even more embroiled in the vampire world now. Gina was his last link to the man he had once been – and had tried to continue being. He thought of her often and missed her more than he'd thought possible. He was often tempted to seek her out but it risked him never hearing from her at all if he tried to see her and he knew it was safer for her to stay away from him. He could find her address in less than an hour if he chose but he didn't. Regardless of much he wanted to.

She was still writing and had moved to Italy three years previously, telling him she wanted to take a break from work and concentrate on her books. He knew how much she loved it there and he hoped she was happy. The postcards she'd sent since then told him little of her personal life and he wondered if she'd finally met someone she wanted to be with. She'd never committed to anyone before and he knew she'd let him have as much of herself and her life as she had given to anyone. Seeing the colourful cards in his post always made him smile – she sent him reproductions of paintings she loved, quirky drawings and cartoons she thought would make him laugh and her flippant style and how she always teased him never altered.

There was a card waiting for him at his office and when he picked it up he had the strangest feeling, he knew straight away something wasn't right. The postcard was a pretty standard tourist view – blue sky, red roof tiles, not really Gina's style at all and he frowned as he turned it over. There were only a few words scrawled across the back.

"_Please come. Soon_"

She had printed her address underneath.

* * *

><p><em>They left him in a crumpled heap on the floor and he could hear them laughing as they walked away along the corridors. The smell of blood was overwhelming; the knowledge that it was Rachel's blood made the smell cloying, not the usual rich inviting scent that called to his soul.<em>

_He closed his eyes. Could it be a dream? One of the vicious nightmares of blood and memory and exhaustion but he knew it was all too horribly real._

_Rachel was dead. _

_Hal had killed her because he had refused to. He was as guilty as Hal, maybe more so. It was terror of him and what he had become that had made her run and she must have run to Hal for help. Or maybe he had found her or was watching out for her, biding his time. However it had happened, it no longer mattered. She was dead. The woman he had loved since the day he had first seen her when he was just six years old and had no idea what love really meant._

_He opened his eyes. All he could see from where he lay was one of her feet, stained with blood, lying limply on the bed frame and he reached out to touch her. She was cold. She was so cold.  
><em>

_He remembered Hal passing money to Dennis, they'd bet on whether he'd know the taste of her blood but how could he? How could they have come so far from humanity to be able to laugh and wager on the death of his angel? His perfect wife._

_He pulled himself up to his feet and walked over to Rachel's body, hand over his mouth, feeling sick at the sight of how they had mutilated her. The tubes that had drained her blood were still in her neck and he pulled at them, trying to get them away from her but they were fixed fast and he had to push his fingers into the wounds to free them. Her head fell back and he realised her neck was broken. He had seen it before. When a body was wanted for blood Hal's men didn't kill them outright. It was easier to drain the blood from a living body, and a carefully positioned break would keep them still long enough. The knowledge of how much she must have suffered before the blood loss killed her was breaking his heart._

_Once he got all the tubes out he gathered up Rachel in his arms and carried her away from the blood stained bed frame and sat against the wall holding her close._

"_I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I wish I'd told you the truth, asked you to forgive me. Asked you to help me but I was scared and now... Now it's too late."_

_He told her the whole story – how Hal had trapped in him the police cell and everything that had happened since then. He knew it wasn't making him feel any better but what else could he do? If he allowed himself to mourn her properly he didn't think he'd ever recover._

_He sat for hours holding Rachel's body until Fergus and Dennis came in and dragged her away from him. He fought them with a fury he didn't know he had but he was no match for them and they laughed when they knocked him back against the wall._

"_You are pathetic." Fergus sneered at him. "She meant nothing to you any more. You need to work out where your loyalties lie."_

_He laughed and reached out to Cutler, holding him by the throat, lifting him until his feet were off the floor._

_"Hal will accept nothing except your complete obedience and you have no choice but to obey. If you don't please him then this is just the beginning of your suffering. You have no idea of what he will do to you."  
><em>

_Fergus let him fall and left him lying, his hands and face stained with Rachel's blood, as they took her body away from him.  
><em>

_Cutler remembered Hal's words – he'd told him that he had set him free._

_He didn't want to be free if it meant being like them. Somehow he needed to find a way to keep what little humanity he'd been left with, he needed to guard it and not let Hal and the others tear it away from him. He would never forget Rachel but if he lost the last vestige of the man who had married her then he wouldn't deserve to have his memories.  
><em>

_No one could ever replace her._

_No one would ever love him as he was now and the thought of the bleak eternity ahead of him made him feel lonelier than ever._

* * *

><p>Getting through airports was always stressful but Cutler knew the tricks now and money helped so he was soon clear. Florence was as beautiful as he remembered but he didn't linger to look at the sights. He'd arranged for a car to be ready for him through one of his local contacts and the young vampire who met him wanted to talk, to ask him questions but his patience was short. He needed to find Gina, to see what was so urgent.<p>

He was soon on his way, the darkened windows and his sunglasses shielding him from as much of the bright sun as possible. He was worried about Gina. He hadn't expected to see her again and he'd done his best to deal with the sadness it brought. Now he was on his way to her he had to acknowledge just how much he'd missed her.

Why now? Why was she asking for him?

He found the address she sent him just outside the city, it looked like an old farmhouse and there was no sign of anyone about. He walked towards the house but before he reached the door he saw a table and chairs set up in the sun and recognised Gina immediately. She was asleep, stretched out with her feet propped on another chair, a hat over her eyes and a book abandoned beside her. He took a deep breath - she looked different and he was shocked. She was painfully thin and her face was drawn, with lines only pain could have made. Her familiar heartbeat was weaker and uneven and the sudden knowledge of what it meant cut through him.

He sat beside her and took her hand and she moved as she started to wake and the hat fell onto the floor. He saw she'd cut her hair short and it was almost all grey now with just a few of the glossy jet black strands he remembered. Her eyes opened and fixed on him and they were the same dark brown eyes he had always known.

"You came. I wasn't sure you would." Her eyes filled with tears and his face must have shown his concern as she managed a crooked grin and ran her arm across her eyes. He'd never seen her cry, despite everything that had happened to her because of him.

"Of course I came." He reached out and wiped away the last trace of the tears she refused to let fall. "You look... What's happened to you?"

"I'll tell you but we should go inside. It's too hot for me and I'm sure it's much too bright for you." She pulled herself to her feet, hanging onto the table for support but when she turned she stumbled and Cutler was on his feet in an instant to catch her. He picked her up – she weighed so little – and carried her to the house where the doors to the terrace stood open. He set her gently down just outside and she stepped through the doorway, turning to look at him and holding out her hand.

"Come in Nick. You're welcome here."

She sank down onto the sofa, curling her legs up under her and he went to sit beside her but she stopped him.

"Sit over there where I can see you. I have to talk to you."

He did what she asked and she tipped her head back with her eyes closed for a while as she collected her thoughts. She sighed and looked at him.

"I'm dying. I probably should already be dead. But you know already – you can see it." He went to speak but she shushed him. "Let me say this – I want to get it over with.

"I don't want sympathy and tears and pretty words, it's too late and it doesn't help. Anyway it's my own fault." She smiled and for a moment the pain in her face faded. "The drugs did their damage all those years ago and then there was the drink and the cigarettes and my body finally decided it had had far too much fun and went on strike. I'm not going to tell you the details – it's too gruesome for words - but I've been fighting for a long time now and I'm finished. I'm just too tired to fight any more."

Her eyes never left his but her voice dropped to a whisper.

"It's time.

"I just needed to see you again before... well, before I die."

Cutler couldn't speak, he could find no words. He'd seen too many deaths to count by now and caused many of them himself but the thought of losing Gina was impossible to contemplate.

A single tear slid down Gina's face and she closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. He moved to sit beside her, carefully putting his arms round her and holding her as gently as he could, feeling the familiar comfort of her warm skin, feeling her clinging onto him so hard, as if it could save her.

He had no idea how long they sat holding each other but eventually there was a knock on the door and a voice calling Gina's name. She pulled away from him, wincing as she stood up.

"That's my doctor. He doesn't trust me to keep any drugs here so he calls every day. He's been wonderful." She walked carefully towards the door. "Stay here. I'll be back when he's done his stuff." She smiled. "I'll be better then."

She shut the door and left Cutler alone. He just sat, staring at the door where she had disappeared, his mind blank. He was sure there must be something he could do but what? Herrick's words came back to him, about how he would have to watch Gina get old and ill and he realised he'd never even considered it before. To any observer he was still 26 while Gina was nearly 60. He realised now why no vampire could stay with a human for long – they moved forward through their lives in a way vampires rarely did. Vampires never really altered; their looks and their character were fixed at the random moment in time when they were made. Humans changed and they grew; they aged and they died. There would always come a point between them when there were just too many questions to answer.

It wasn't long before Gina came back and she wasn't alone. She looked brighter but her eyes had an unnatural glitter and her heart was racing. Whatever medication the doctor had given her was strong and he realised how bad the pain must be.

"Nick, this is Doctor Lombardi. Roberto, this is Nick Cutler. He's... well, he's my lawyer and a very good friend."

"It's good to meet you Mr Cutler. I'm glad Gina has you here."

Cutler shook hands. Doctor Lombardi's English was excellent and they made polite small talk before a phone rang in another room and Gina excused herself to answer it.

"Tell me how she really is. She says she's dying."

Doctor Lombardi shrugged.

"She is. I have no idea how she has held on as long as she has. It will be soon now. Will you stay with her?"

"Of course." Cutler didn't hesitate.

Doctor Lombardi took a bottle of tablets from his pocket and handed them to Cutler.

"Take these. If the pain is too much for her between my visits then they will help but don't let her have them. I'm not sure what she might do."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, she's an amazing woman, I wish I could work a miracle for her." He looked sharply at Cutler. "When I first saw you I thought she had a son she'd kept hidden from us all but that's not what you are. I can't make you out, you're different somehow but I can see you are important to her.

"I think she has been waiting for something. Maybe it's you."

Cutler couldn't answer him and the Doctor put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it before he turned and left.

Cutler stood still thinking about he'd said, wondering if it was true, staring at the bottle of pills before he saw a movement outside. Gina was piling cushions on a large wicker sofa in the garden and he slipped the pill bottle into his pocket and went out to join her. It was early evening and the sun was setting.

She passed him a brandy as they sat in the shade, Gina leaning against him as she drank most of her first glass in one go. He sipped at his own glass.

"Is that a good idea?"

"I think it's a bit late to worry about my drinking habits!" Gina laughed. "Anyway, it helps."

"Helps the pain?"

"No. Nothing helps now. It helps me not care."

She poured them both more drinks.

"What were you and Roberto talking about? Me, I suppose, you have no secrets when you're nearly dead."

"He thinks you're amazing."

"Good!" Gina laughed. "Are you jealous? You always used to be. I remember you scolding me about my terrible behaviour. You're quite a prude in your unique way. I know I managed to teach you a few tricks once you'd got over the shock – although I do rather worry about who's getting the benefit of them now.

"Anyway – no doom and gloom, no more talk of illness. I want to laugh and remember and pretend I'm still as young as you seem to be. I'm a dying woman so you can't refuse me anything."

Cutler put his arm around her shoulders, settling her against his side.

"I don't think I've ever refused you anything. You would never let me."

"That's very true. But without me there I suspect you're up to all kinds of no good. You might think I led you astray but I think you get up to way more than I could ever contemplate. Wine, women and blood, I bet you get everything you want nowadays."

Cutler smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Wine and blood maybe. Women? No one that matters. No one but you."

They talked late into the night. At first it was awkward as Cutler couldn't pretend nothing was wrong but the brandy helped and they were soon laughing together and it was almost like it used to be.

In the early hours Gina got restless and Cutler could feel her body getting tense.

"Are you in more pain?"

She nodded.

"But there's nothing you can do, I'll be OK."

"There is something." Cutler got the tablets out of his pocket and shook two out of the bottle and gave them to her.

"Roberto gave me these for you. Take them and then maybe you should go to bed and sleep."

She swallowed the tablets with the last of the brandy.

"No. I want to stay out here and watch the stars. And I want you to talk to me honestly. I want to know exactly what you've been doing and what you really are." She twisted round in his arms so she could meet his eyes. "No lying, no omissions, no evasion. I want to know you properly. I'm not scared any more so no more secrets."

So he told her.

He told her everything.

She knew a lot already about Hal and Rachel but he filled in the gaps, the times he wasn't proud of. The way he had really been with his wife and the things he'd done wrong even before he became a vampire. How he was no longer revolted by death and destruction and how it used to make him feel. About the plans he was starting to make for his future. He told her about killing, how it felt and how easy it was, how he found those desperate women who seemed to welcome death. He tried to explain the ecstasy of blood and how complete it made him feel.

There was only one thing he missed out. He didn't know how to tell her he knew how perfect her blood tasted and even after all these years he craved more.

When he'd finished Gina didn't speak and after a long silence Cutler started to get worried.

"Should I go? Now you know exactly what I am do you still want me here?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I still want you." Her answer was immediate and she sat up from where she had been lying with her head on his chest. She took his hands. "I was thinking. Tell me – have you ever made anyone what you are?"

"Have I recruited? No. Never. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. I suppose I wonder what I might have said if you'd asked me if I wanted to be like you when I was young. But you never did and it never occurred to me so it's pointless to speculate."

Cutler was wondering himself, maybe he could save Gina now but she knew what he was thinking.

"No, I'm not asking now and really I don't think I'd ever have wanted to be immortal. It hasn't brought you much happiness has it?"

"I don't think we're meant to be happy. However long we survive there's always something just out of reach."

It was close to dawn and they watched the sun rise through the trees before Gina finally fell asleep. Cutler carried her into the house and put her to bed. She slept most of the day and he stayed close to her. Twice she woke in pain and he gave her the last of the tablets the doctor left him and she slept again. In the late afternoon the Doctor called and insisted he be allowed to treat Gina in private. Cutler didn't go far, he could hear Gina's heart was getting slower. He knew she would soon be gone.

Doctor Lombardi came out of Gina's room to where Cutler was waiting. He shook his head.

"I have no idea how she is holding on. She's strong. I've done what I can to stop the pain but you should prepare yourself."

Cutler went back in, Gina was sat up against a pile of pillows and she held out her hand to him and he sat beside her.

"Nick, I want you to do three things for me. Will you do that?"

"Of course I will."

She laughed.

"Without even knowing what they are?"

"I'll do anything you want."

She grinned at him, the same cheeky grin that always meant he was being challenged – and the one that made it quite clear she was in charge, always the leader. It wiped away the years and the pain and all he could see was the Gina he first met.

"First. Stop treating me like a piece of glass. I won't break. I want to see if you've remembered everything I taught you – and what new tricks you can show me."

She reached out and started to undo his shirt buttons, her fingers were clumsy, her hands shaking and he caught hold of them.

"You're too weak; I don't want to hurt you."

"I know. You probably will hurt me but I don't care any more. I don't have long left and I've missed you so much." Her hands went back to his buttons and she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and smiled up at him. "Anyway – you have to admit it wouldn't be a bad way to go!"

Despite his worry and sadness he laughed, she could always make him laugh, however desperate the situation.

At first he tried to be gentle, to be careful but she knew him too well and she took him to a point where her illness and frailty were forgotten. Everything was forgotten in the intense pleasure they had always had, a perfect connection they had both missed so much for so long.

It was dark when they were both exhausted and Cutler wanted Gina to rest but she refused. She propped herself up on one arm to meet his eyes, her other hand stroking his face.

"The other two things I want you to do. It's quite simple. I want you to kill me and then I want you to leave."

She put her hand over his mouth.

"Don't say anything – I know you're thinking you can't but it's what I want. I can't kill myself – Roberto is far too careful to let me get at enough drugs – and I can't bear to linger any more, I want it finished. You told me about how you kill and that's what I want. It seems right somehow.

"And you have to go afterwards. Straight away. I've made all the arrangements and Roberto will cover up what's happened but you mustn't be here. You'll be at risk."

He could tell from her eyes she meant every word and he wanted to respond but all he could think of was the taste of her blood and his eyes flashed black, just for a second or two but she saw. He regained control quickly but he knew he couldn't refuse her. She saw the acceptance in his face and she reached out and pulled him close, his face against her throat, and his lips on her pulse.

They stayed like that for a long time, there was nothing more to say but eventually Gina whispered.

"Now Nick. Please."

He lifted his head and kissed her softly and then put his mouth to the place where he had always felt her blood flow, where his fingers had always lingered. He wasn't sure if he could do this, but he thought of her blood and the taste that had haunted him and he carefully, gently, bit into her neck.

He heard her take a sharp breath and then sigh as the blood flowed. The hot rich liquid filled his mouth, the feeling more intense than ever before. It was perfect.

He took several mouthfuls, feeling her fingers in his hair, stroking his head and his face. He could feel her heart start to slow. Her body relaxed, her fingers slipping away and he lifted his head again to look at her.

She was smiling.

"Thank you." Her voice was almost gone. "I love you Nick, always and forever. For eternity. I hope you find some peace."

Her eyes closed and he bent to her throat again and took the rest of her blood, carefully but quickly until she was quiet and still.

* * *

><p>Cutler sat under an olive tree in the hills overlooking the city. There were no houses nearby, just a single track road that looked as though it went nowhere. He hadn't wanted to leave Gina but he knew he had to – and anyway he had promised her he would. He knew Roberto would find her and would look after her.<p>

He had driven away from her without knowing where he was going, following smaller and smaller roads until he found this spot. He had been sitting here all night and now the sun was rising, the dawn of the first day for thirty years without Gina in his life.

He felt totally bereft, empty. This was worse than losing his human self, worse than when Hal abandoned him. It was worse than losing Rachel.

What was left?

Nothing.

Despite his growing integration in the world Hal had forced him into he had always known Gina was the onl;y thing left that had kept him part human. Now she was gone it was over and all he could think about was what Hal had once said.

"_Humanity and mercy are an old skin_." Cutler could hear Hal's voice echoing in his head. "_To be truly free, to finally become a history maker, you must shed it._"

Finally he knew what Hal had meant.

Now he was just a vampire. No longer human, no longer merciful. Just a monster.

If that was all he had then he would make it work, whatever he needed to do and however long it would take him.

He would be a history maker.


	8. 2002

**Hatred is the madness of the heart...**

* * *

><p><strong>2002<strong>

Cutler had imagined he'd be tormented with grief for many years after he lost Gina but he wasn't. Mourning was a human emotion and he seemed to have no call for them nowadays. It would be an indulgence. Much as he had wanted to be with her, to pretend to still be human, she had never been able to be a part of his world. He knew that now and wondered how he could have believed in the impossible for so long. He remembered the times they were together, as he did with Rachel, but he was no longer the man they had known and grief and pain had been part of that old skin.

Gina left him with one lasting legacy. Her blood had tasted so perfect and had made him feel so complete that nothing else could ever match it. His body needed to feed but the urge to drink was much less now, it was just a necessity. There was pleasure, of course, but it could never be the ecstasy he had known before or the total joy of Gina's blood. It helped that the urge was so much diminished. He killed when he needed to but no longer did he find that a heartbeat would call to him unexpectedly, blotting out all reason as had happened in the past. Now he took the blood he needed, not choosing for any other reason than convenience. It made his life more ordered, easier to control.

He scorned the desperate need he saw in others; those misguided fools who thought they could abstain and suffered pointless agonies. There were those who let blood rule their entire existence and he despised those too although it was a useful lever. He prided himself in having his own needs tightly controlled. He could go without blood for a surprisingly long time and he still detested a messy kill. It was... simply unnecessary.

He had never returned to Bristol. Herrick had been useful but he expected Cutler to defer to him and he would no longer do so. He travelled but not the random roaming he used to do to fill his days. Now he planned and searched out people who would be useful to him. He was beginning to be listened to, grudgingly by the older vampires, but they did listen. They didn't respect him yet, he was much too young but one day they would. He would make them all listen.

In between he spent time in places that he had always enjoyed. He could stay still and silent for days on end, looking at a view of the sea, of rooftops, of countryside or in a busy city, watching the human bustle that felt so alien nowadays. He would think, planning and scheming for his future.

He considered his immortality for the very first time. He'd been born 78 years ago and only 26 of those years had been human. It was an interesting consideration that he had been vampire for twice as long as he had been human and he knew that the longer he lived the further away from humanity he would grow. That was good. Hal had been around 500 years old and had gained a reputation that Cutler envied. He knew that whatever he did it was only age that mattered to the vampires and he would get scant respect before he'd survived 100 years and more.

His plans were coming together and he was finding out more about the Old Ones. They were the ones that he had to impress. Once he'd done that then everything else he wanted would follow.

Sometimes he thought back over his years, watching his memories like a film, curious about how he had come to where he was now. He'd thought it all started with Hal but now he looked dispassionately at his past he could see that his first steps on this long road had been taken before then.

Maybe he was always meant to be what he had become.

* * *

><p><em>He was fed up with having to deal with all the hopeless cases. He knew he was lucky to have a job at all given that he'd only just qualified and it was a good job. He knew he was considered promising but he had to serve his time before he got to deal with anything more challenging.<em>

_He opened the file that had just been passed to him and sighed. It was bound to be a simple matter and he'd just skim through the details before his client arrived._

_The more he read the more intrigued he became. The original charge was soliciting and then it was changed to brothel keeping. He flicked back through the papers again to see why that charge had been dropped but it wasn't clear. He frowned. It was clear that some sort of influence had been brought to bear on the new case and he wondered just who had got involved. The charge was back to prostitution and his instructions were to achieve the least possible sentence after a guilty plea. It had been made plain he was not meant to dig into the details but there was something odd going on and he made a note to look out the papers that he hadn't been given._

_There as a knock on the office door and his client was brought in. He was still reading so he held up his hand, keeping his eyes on the papers_

"_Please sit – I'll be with you in just one moment"_

_He finished the page and stood, holding out his hand – the woman might be a tart but manners were important. _

"_Nick Cutler. I'll be representing you"_

"_Good to meet you Mr Cutler." As she shook his hand he had a job not to stare. This was not what he expected. She was young, about his age and immaculately turned out although her voice had hints of a cockney accent she had learned to subdue. Even Cutler recognised Dior's New Look although he had no idea if her clothes were copies or originals. He suspected that this woman would never wear a copy but either way rationing certainly hadn't affected her. Her black hair was in a neat chignon and her red lipstick was perfect, accentuating a smile that told him she was quite accustomed to this sort of reaction._

"_Miss... Smith isn't it?" He was flustered, he didn't like being surprised._

"_Smith will do. Although maybe you'd be happier calling me Rose"_

"_I think Miss Smith will be fine."_

_He went through the details with her and although she answered all his questions quite cheerfully he noticed that she didn't volunteer a scrap of extra information and that just made him more curious. She didn't seem worried about the case and he had a distinct feeling that she was a step ahead of him although she happily deferred to his opinion._

_It didn't take long to decide how he would approach the hearing and he was confident she would be fined and not jailed and he told her so, gaining a dazzling smile in return. _

_He was correct. The hearing was brief – the judge seemed unusually keen to get it over with - and although the fine was larger than he'd hoped it didn't seem to be of much concern to Miss Smith. She shook his hand afterwards, thanking him._

"_You did well Mr Cutler. I can see why you were so highly recommended. Perhaps I can buy you a drink to thank you properly."_

"_I'm not sure that would be appropriate." He realised he was still holding her hand and hurriedly let it go._

"_If you change your mind I will be here this evening." She slipped a card into his top pocket. "Now I need to go and get out of this dreadful costume."_

_She had dressed down for the hearing, still smart but the air of money and glamour was dulled by the plain outfit, her glossy hair hidden under a sober hat and he wished he'd thought of that as part of his advice, not that she really seemed to need it. She started to walk away, quite confident that he was watching her and spoke over her shoulder._

"_I think we'll meet again"_

_Cutler had told Rachel he would be working late but by early evening he'd done everything he needed to. He could go home but he found himself sitting in the pub near his office, putting off leaving. He had no idea why – he and Rachel were happier than he could have imagined but recently he'd been feeling restless. There was a feeling that there was something missing, a feeling he suppressed. What more could he need?_

_After a couple of pints he remembered the card that Miss Smith had put in his pocket and retrieved it. It said very little, just an address and his curiosity about the woman returned. What harm would it do to have a drink with her?_

_It wasn't the pub or club he expected, the address turned out to be a rather grand house and when he rang the bell he started to think he was making a big mistake. The man who answered the door was dressed as a butler and he looked Cutler up and down, assessing him with none of the usual deference of household staff. He didn't speak and his direct gaze made Cutler uncomfortable._

_He swallowed nervously and held out the card._

"_I'm here to see Miss Smith"_

"_I'm sure you are sir. Who shall I say is calling?"_

"_Cutler. Nick Cutler."_

_He was ushered into a hallway while the butler disappeared. The lights were low and he could hear the sounds of conversation and laughter, maybe she was having a party. He was wondering if he should leave when she appeared through a door at the back of the hall._

"_Mr Cutler. How very lovely to see you" She was wearing a dark red dress, full length and low cut, and she looked so beautiful he knew he was staring. "Now, I promised you a drink but we do have certain standards here. Let's tidy you up a little first."_

_She reached out and buttoned his collar, her warm fingers on his throat making him shiver. He always pulled his tie loose and she straightened it. She smoothed his jacket and noticed he had buttoned his waistcoat wrong and before he could say anything she had undone the buttons, buttoning them up in the right order. She was making him uneasy; Rachel did the same, smoothing his shirt when he pulled at his tight collars but not like this. There was a knowing look to her and her fingers were confident, her touch was making him both want to run and to stay. As she did up the last buttons she slipped her fingers through the gap between his shirt buttons, drawing sharp nails over his skin, just for a moment. She smiled as she felt him tense, a practised glance telling her exactly how he had reacted to her touch. _

"_That's so much better." _

_She tucked her arm though his and lead a rather dazed Cutler though the main door from the hall. The room was large, hazy with cigarette and cigar smoke and luxuriously furnished, a gramophone playing just loud enough to allow conversation. _

_She sat on a deep velvet couch with Cutler beside her, looking round, wondering exactly what he had got himself into. The men he could see were in a mixture of evening dress and business suits but all looked confident and successful. Most were sitting with girls but some were talking in groups or playing cards and as he surveyed the room Cutler realised that while the men varied in age the girls were young and pretty. They were all wearing long gowns and at first he thought they looked similar but he soon realised the dresses were identical except for the colour. This was not an ordinary house and as one of the girls brought drinks she smiled at him, leaning over as she put down the glasses, letting the low neck of her gown slip even further. He knew he was blushing and he looked away, hearing her laugh. He saw a familiar face across the room and recognised the judge from earlier, playing backgammon with another man. A perfectly ordinary scene except that both had a girl perched on their laps and the judges' hand was hidden in the split of her skirt. No wonder he'd been keen to see the case closed quickly._

_Eyes wide he looked at the woman beside him who was calmly pouring brandy from a decanter._

"_But this is..."_

"_A brothel, Mr Cutler. Nick. A house of ill repute. What did you expect?"_

"_I don't know. I wasn't thinking..."_

_She put her fingers to his lips and passed him a glass of brandy._

"_You read the file so you know why I was arrested. You also know why – or have a damn good idea why I wasn't charged with anything more serious. You're a clever man; you were chosen to deal with this case specially._

"_You've realised that you're involved now, just being here is enough to implicate you and I have powerful friends. Some who come here to avail themselves of my hospitality and some who provide protection. Work with us and we'll look after you. It's best you don't know what happens if you don't._

"_Speaking of which I should reward you for your work today. You passed the test, the fine was considerably less than we expected."_

_She looked round the room._

"_Ah yes. I see that Evelyn isn't engaged."_

_A blonde girl started to walk across towards them and Cutler realised what she meant._

"_But... No... I can't... I'm married."_

_Rose laughed._

"_Of course you are. Aren't they all?"_

_Cutler went to stand up but she caught his arm and stopped him and she waved Evelyn away, she could see that he was panicking._

"_This is all too much isn't it?" Her voice was soothing. "Why don't you and I find a quiet spot to talk."_

_It was late when Cutler got home and Rachel was asleep. He lay awake, thinking about what Rose had told him. Without mentioning any names she'd made it very clear how important her associates were. He already knew he couldn't escape – by going to the house, the brothel, he was now involved. For some reason he'd been chosen and now he was trapped. The only way to get away, to carry on trying to make a difference with his work would be to move far away – and even then the shadow would hang over him forever. He'd stood up in court and lied for her. He hadn't known he had but it didn't matter._

_His curiosity about Rose was as strong as ever, although he hadn't wanted to he'd found her fascinating. Her honesty about her profession was refreshing and he knew he wanted to see her again. The memory of her fingers on his skin made him shiver._

_Of course, he could look on this as an opportunity. The power and influence in the room might help him progress. He would just be doing his job, his firm were retained by Rose as she had explained and someone had to do it. Her previous lawyer had retired and Cutler remembered his name being mentioned in the office – he'd been young to retire and he now lived in luxury on the coast. No one knew quite how he'd managed it – an unexpected legacy had been mentioned - but now he suspected he had made his money another way._

_However he looked at it, however he rearranged the facts, looked for loopholes he couldn't see that he had any choice. _

_Finally he slept._

_He dreamed of Rose._

_He stayed away from her for almost a week. He'd been told that he alone would continue to represent her and he'd accepted the instruction, he really had no choice. _

_He worked another late night and took the opportunity of being alone in the office to look up Rose in the old files. They told him very little but the lack of paperwork confirmed that there was more to the business they conducted for her. He found property records, an occasional fine and that she paid for representation for a variety of women, presumably some of those he'd seen at the house. He wanted to look further back but he was worried that someone would realise what he was doing. At any rate he doubted Rose Smith was her real name._

_He had told Rachel he would be late again, she knew he had social obligations with his job and she never questioned him. She just patiently waited for him._

_He thought maybe he'd have a drink before he went home and he found himself carefully straightening his tie, tidying his hair and making sure he looked as smart as he could. He told himself he was going to the pub but he was fooling himself and he was soon outside Rose's house._

_This time the butler recognised him and ushered him straight in. It was quieter, only a few men in the room and he found a chair in the corner and sat, wondering what happened next. A girl came over with a decanter of brandy and poured him a drink. _

"_Would you like some company?"_

_He nodded and she pulled a chair up close to him, chatting about nothing in particular; her voice soft so he had to lean towards her to hear. He'd always been repulsed by the street women he'd seen but this was different. She was pretty and engaging and the knowledge that she was available to him in any way he wanted was exhilarating. She saw the interest in his eyes and shifted in her seat, the split in her long gown opening a little further so he could see her stocking top and a glimpse of soft white skin above. He stared. He wanted to touch it._

_Unbidden, an image came to his mind of Rachel and how she darned her stockings to make them last longer and he felt ashamed. How could he even consider touching another woman? He should go. He turned away from the girl and finished his drink and he was about to leave when Rose came into the room, pausing in the doorway to see who was there before seeing Cutler. He stood to greet her but she ignored his outstretched hand and instead put her hands on his shoulders and kissing him on both cheeks. He hadn't realised how tall she was, in her high heels their eyes were almost level._

_At some unspoken signal the girl slipped away and Rose took her seat._

"_So. Happily married Nick Cutler. Just what brings you back to see us?"_

"_I'm... I'm not really sure." He stammered a little. He really didn't know._

"_Whatever the reason it's good to see you. Will you join me in a glass of champagne?"_

_She didn't wait for an answer and a bottle soon appeared. She knew how to put him at his ease and their conversation ranged widely. She was clever and well informed and surprised him with her forthright views. He hadn't thought to like such forward women but Rose was becoming more fascinating. They soon finished the bottle and another appeared and then another. Cutler wasn't used to champagne and along with Rose's gentle flattery his head was soon spinning._

_In reply to her careful questions he told her about Rachel. How beautiful she was, how perfect, how he had never looked at another woman and he was aware that she laughed but in the daze of alcohol he didn't know why. She drew him out further and he confided his doubts and how, just lately, he had felt something was missing. That her gentle nature and her reluctance to find a darker passion with him had left him wondering if there was something more. He never been with another woman, never even kissed or touched anyone but Rachel and he was realising that he wanted something that Rachel couldn't – or wouldn't – give him._

_Yet another bottle was opened and his glass was never empty, Rose saw to that. His vision became blurred and he started to muddle his words. He felt hands help him to his feet and guide him and he stumbled along dimly lit corridors for what seemed forever before he fell onto a large soft bed. He opened his eyes for a moment but the room was spinning and he closed them again and the cool hands that were removing his clothes and stroking his body felt like a dream._

_When he woke his head was pounding and even the slightest movement hurt. Despite the pain he smiled at the mop of disordered blond curls resting on his chest and leaned forward to kiss the top of her head, smoothing the hair back from her face. He froze. It wasn't Rachel. Where the hell was he? And what had he done?_

_He pushed her away and scrambled out of bed, looking round for his clothes. They were piled on a chair and he started to dress, the pain of the worse hangover he'd ever had making his hands clumsy. He was buttoning his shirt when the door opened and Rose came in. She was still wearing her evening dress and he looked at his watch, it was 4am. Thank God, he could be home before Rachel woke._

_Rose sent the girl away and sat on the side of the bed and smiled at him. _

"_I see you managed to overcome some of your scruples. Welcome to our world Nick. I hope you found what you were looking for."_

"_I don't remember anything." Cutler's voice was flat. "I have to get home."_

_Rose laughed._

"_I'm sure Lillian will be thrilled to hear she was so memorable." Her voice turned cold and the smile disappeared. "Let me assure you that what you claim not to remember has been recorded. I have an excellent photographer and a strong safe but no one need see those pictures unless you make it necessary. _

"_If you do as is expected of you then what happens here is just between us."_

_Cutler didn't go to the office that day, he told Rachel he was ill and stayed in bed. She fussed over him, trying to tempt him to eat until he snapped at her and she left him alone which made him feel even worse. When he told Rose he couldn't remember he had been telling the truth but slowly fragments were coming back to him and he knew that if photos really did exist they would be damning._

_He would never go back there again._

_But he did. Every time he held out for a few days and then he returned. The lure was Rose who he was becoming besotted with and he craved her company. He wanted more but after he made a clumsy pass at her she made it quite clear that she was not part of the menu. The other girls were though and he couldn't resist, especially after they started to know what pleased him._

_He carried on visiting the house, always looking for Rose and always hoping for more than just conversation. She seemed to enjoy his company and he got more and more obsessed with her. She never touched him again but she made sure he had a girl whenever he wanted. Always a blonde and well aware of what he liked best, he preferred not to have to say the words. _

_He'd dealt with many simple legal matters for Rose and money appeared in his account every time. He received bills every time he visited her house, always couched in terms that could be put down as a business expense and sent to his office. He paid promptly – they paid him more than he was charged and he dare not risk a delay even though every transaction, every girl, put him more firmly in their power._

_He finally got a chance to meet Rose away from the house. It seemed that an overzealous policeman was investigating her operation. He would be deterred from digging any deeper but Cutler was ordered to look at the options should a prosecution be considered. He met Rose in an anonymous hotel, somewhere they wouldn't be seen and although he expected they would talk in the bar or the restaurant she had booked a room, just for privacy she told him, so no one would see them together._

_They talked through the layers of protection she had set up and he asked more questions than he had ever been able to before partly because he wanted – needed – to know all he could and partly to spend as much time with her as possible. When they were satisfied that the systems that kept her house protected were as good as they could be she picked up her handbag and stood up to leave._

"_Stay and have a drink with me." _

_Cutler knew he sounded as if he was pleading and he thought she looked regretful as shook her head._

"_It's not a good idea."_

_They both realised that she had left her gloves behind and Cutler picked them up to hand to her as she turned to collect them and they collided. He dropped the gloves and put his arms round her waist pulling her close to him and kissing her before she could turn her head away. _

_She knew he wanted her and she had begun to realise that she looked forward to Cutler's company. She flattered him and drew out information about his life as she had been ordered to but she also laughed with him. When she watched him with her girls it was more than just to direct the photographer and to gather the evidence that one day would finish him. She was watching him because she wanted to._

_She kissed him back. Just one afternoon. That was all she wanted from him, an escape. Surely it wasn't too much to ask and then she'd return to her real life. _

_Rose was sat at her small desk in the corner of her private parlour. She was thinking about Cutler and what might have been if her life had been different but she shook her head. He really had no idea of what he was getting into, and however much she was drawn to him she had to look after herself. She couldn't risk getting involved with anyone, the man who owned her would find out and his retribution would be terrible. She had no desire to go through that again, her life here suited her very well and sacrifices had to be made to pay for it._

_She opened the safe concealed behind a picture and took out a copy of her handwritten report on Cutler as well as copies of the photos of him with several of her girls. She added a note recommending that Cutler should be considered for further integration into the shadowy organisation that controlled her life. That would take him out of her way, and then all she had to do was stop him wanting her before he put them both at risk. Quickly, before she could think about what she was doing she put the papers and photos in a large envelope and sealed it but wrote nothing on the outside. She called the butler._

"_Take this and deliver it immediately, you know the address. Make sure you put it in Mr Yorke's hand, give it to no one else."_

_The next day she received a message to meet Cutler urgently, a matter had arisen that he needed to discuss with her and he'd booked a room at the same hotel. She suspected there was more to the invitation but she had to go in case it was genuine._

_Cutler sat and waited for Rose to arrive. Since the afternoon they had spent in bed he had been able to think of nothing else and he was going to tell her he was leaving Rachel and taking her away. They could run and start again somewhere new._

_She was distant when she arrived, keeping him at arm's length and wanting to know what he had found out. He admitted it was a pretence to see her and started to tell her of his plans and was horrified when she laughed. It was a harsh sound and she looked at him as if he were an idiot._

"_You are dreaming. Have you learned nothing? It will never happen, he won't let us."_

"_Who?" Cutler wanted to know. _

"_The man who owns me. And owns you too."_

"_That's ridiculous, he can't own you. I can take you away somewhere he won't find us. We'll be happy."_

_She laughed again, her face bleak and cold and he took hold of her wrapping his arms round her as she stood still, completely unresponsive._

"_Just as you and your wife are happy? You know nothing about me. Maybe you should, it might make you realise why this is so wrong._

"_I've had hundreds of men, maybe thousands. Too many to count starting from when I was too young to know what was happening. I've been passed around, fucked in alleys and in front of paying audiences, I've been on my knees in front of dockers and lords. If you can think of it I've done it."_

_Most decent men were revolted by her history but she could feel that it excited Cutler and the feelings she had started to admit she had for him faded away. If she ever managed to escape she wanted something clean and good. She'd thought it might have been him but he'd been corrupted, just as she had._

"_Now I'm owned by one man who keeps me to himself. He terrifies me but he never touches me and he insists that no one else does. If I do everything he asks then one day he'll let me go. If I don't he'll do worse than kill me."_

"_But I love you." Cutler's voice was desperate and his hands were stroking her back._

"_Maybe you think you do but to me you're just one more punter in a very long line." _

_She felt him flinch and she knew she had to push him further, to a point where he would leave her alone, for both their sakes. She let her voice return to the cockney she grew up with and her face changed, became harder._

"_I've been watching you and I know all your secrets, all the dirty little games you like to play. How about a free sample before you go?"_

_She knelt in front of him and started to unbutton his trousers._

"_Stop it. You're making yourself cheap."_

"_Oh no darlin' – I haven't been cheap for years." She grinned up at him. "If I didn't pay you so well you could never afford me. Trust me, I'm worth every penny."_

_He caught hold of her shoulders and pushed her away, harder than he intended and she sprawled on the floor. This wasn't the Rose he was going to give up everything for. She sat up; there was blood trickling down her face from where her head had hit a chair as she fell._

"_Do you do this to Rachel when she doesn't behave how you want? Knock the little woman around when you don't get your own way? Call yourself a man? We're all just whores to you but at least I'm honest about it. I don't call myself a wife."_

_He felt an overwhelming fury at her words._

"_How dare you talk about her like that?" _

_He slapped her hard and her lip started to bleed but she still laughed at him through the blood, increasing his fury. _

"_Don't ever mention her name again."_

_His hands were on her throat and he was shaking her in pure white anger, barely aware of what he was doing until the rage passed and he let her fall. He straightened his jacket to go; there really wasn't much else to say._

"_I'm sorry Rose, but you shouldn't have talked about Rachel like that."_

_She didn't answer and he looked back at her, still lying on the floor. Her eyes were wide and staring and the marks of his fingers were red and livid on her neck. The blood had stopped flowing and when he put his hand down to her throat he could feel no pulse._

_She was dead._

_He had killed her._

_He ran._

_He sat in his office, files spread out on the desk, looking as though he was working but he couldn't focus on the words. He was terrified, Rose would soon be missed and would anyone know that she'd met him? He had no idea if anyone had known where she was going. He sat, ice cold inside, waiting for the axe to fall._

_Nothing was said._

_He left the office and bought whiskey on the way home, as much as he could. He paid a ridiculous amount not bothering to bargain with the racketeer who thought Christmas had come. He sat silently all evening, drinking himself into unconsciousness, ignoring Rachel who asked once what she could do to help him and then left him alone. When the bottles were empty and he couldn't walk up the stairs, she settled him to sleep on the sofa, tucking a warm quilt round his shoulders. _

_Next morning he was called to a meeting and told that Rose Smith had been found dead in a hotel, she had been murdered. He tried not to react beyond what was expected of him but his head hurt and he was sweating and shaking and someone asked if he was all right._

"_Too much whiskey last night." He managed a laugh. "A cosy night in with the wife and it's always me that suffers the next day."_

_They laughed with him and someone passed him a glass of water. Without thinking he'd started to establish his alibi._

_As Rose had been his client he thought he could risk talking to the police but they had nothing much to say to say, just that investigations were continuing. It was definitely murder but so far no one had seen who she had been with. It was a relief but he needed to know more. There was a detective whom he had met at Rose's house who was bound to give him more information than he should. He arranged to meet him for a drink and over a pint he asked him about the case. _

"_It will all be nicely tidied away. The official line is that she was a tart – not a great stretch as we know – and was killed by a punter. It's too risky to let anyone look into this properly." He grinned at Cutler. "After all, we both know what they might find out."_

_Cutler got them both more drinks. He felt sick even thinking about Rose but he had to keep up appearances. He wanted the man to talk quicker, tell him what was going on but he couldn't look too worried so he let him ramble on, stories about the house and Rose and her girls and what had happened to him there. Eventually, when Cutler's nerves were at screaming pitch he got back to the point._

"_There are people who won't risk the time it'll take to find out who really killed her so we've found a patsy. He's a drunk and he's got no idea which way is up so framing him and putting the whole case away is going to be pretty simple."_

_He finished his drink._

"_Do you have any idea who it was? It wasn't like Rose to be away from the house alone and she always told someone where she was. He insisted on it. She must have been meeting someone she knew well to have put them at such a risk. He'd kill anyone who touched her."_

_He looked at Cutler sharply. _

"_You were her lawyer weren't you? Perhaps you should prosecute, at least then we'd know we'd get the right result." He stood to go. "Maybe I could have a word."_

_He did just that although Cutler never knew who he spoke to. Not until much later. He prosecuted the man who claimed he was innocent but could give no coherent account of his movements for the week. He might have been better pleading insanity. By the time the police and whoever else had finished with him he was a gibbering wreck. No one seemed to care that he was incapable of rational thought and he was found guilty. _

_The death sentence was inevitable, no appeal was allowed and it wasn't long before he was hanged._

_When news that the sentence had been carried out was brought to him Cutler felt a huge relief. He'd got away with it. He should feel guilty but actually he felt empowered. He should be mourning Rose but he'd been taken in by her, she'd lead him on. She was just another tart and she didn't deserve his thoughts. Just thinking about how she had made a fool of him sullied the perfect marriage he had with his beloved Rachel. _

_Cutler knew that his part in Rose's death had not been discovered. If the man who terrified and owned Rose had found out then Cutler would also be dead. He still had the photographs and the financial records to hold over Cutler and of course he knew about the cover up and the way Cutler had managed the prosecution but he could have no idea that he was really the killer. No one knew but him._

_It was time he took advantage of his position._

_He could do whatever he wanted now._

_He felt invincible._

_It was 1949. _

* * *

><p>Cutter's investigation into the Old Ones had left him with much to think about. He knew that if he could impress them then his place was secure and he'd be able to gain the reputation and respect he had carved for so long. But how?<p>

He knew they were based in South America and that the very oldest clustered together for reasons that no one seemed to know. Maybe for protection or maybe just because no one else was welcome. How could anyone possibly conceive of the centuries of existence they had had?

He had heard whispers that they were looking at England, and he needed to know why and if that meant they would travel here. The younger Old Ones who were still in the world would tell him little – although that was because most of them were not privy to all the secrets. Cutler couldn't go to them – no one could – but if they came to the UK, however long he had to wait for them that would be his time.

Herrick had talked about their representative in Barry and that had also come up in other conversations so Cutler decided he had to go and see just what that meant. He found a name and tried to make contact and eventually he was summoned, in terms that he did not appreciate. It was as if he was being granted an audience but he had to play along much as he hated deferring to anyone.

He got very little useful information – Richard was bombastic but guarded and Emma was frankly predatory and though Cutler could charm her easily enough he was wary. She was quite obviously the power in the relationship whatever Richard thought. They were almost reverential towards the Old Ones and let little slip but they did tell Cutler that they were reporting back in detail at the moment. They had been asked about the potential in the UK for the Old Ones to begin a major operation. All they were waiting for was a suitable opportunity, a catalyst for them to begin.

That detail alone made the trip worthwhile even though Richard had booked him into the most appalling guest house, presumably on purpose. He spent one more night in Barry, putting up with the creaking iron bedstead and the vile 70s decor and the bizarre mural in the breakfast room that defied any rational explanation. However useful it might be to be in Barry he wasn't sure he could actually live there. Somewhere close enough would do. Just far enough to keep him out of Richard – and Emma's – way.

He found an apartment in Cardiff, he could bide his time there and when he saw things starting to happen he would find legal work in Barry, something that would get him involved, he already had a couple of useful contacts in the local police force. He had to wait a while though. He couldn't be that visible in the human world for too long otherwise people would notice how he didn't age.

For the next few years he would watch and wait. He'd grown patient now his plans were in place. He had already started to place occasional articles in the press about werewolf attacks and other unexplained mysteries. He wasn't sure exactly how it would be useful yet but it was giving a history he could exploit later. He dipped into online sites, creating many accounts that he could use to drop hints and clues, build conspiracies and stir up interest. In time he'd set up his own sites, under his control.

It passed the time.

He had as many years as it would take and he knew that his time was coming and he would achieve the greatness he deserved.


	9. Epilogue

**Hatred is the madness of the heart...**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Epilogue <strong>**

"_Before he killed me he monologued the whole thing. I didn't think people actually did that."_

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry about the tape but you really aren't going to shut up otherwise are you? Not that I mind the conversation, it's the accent. I don't have a clue what you're saying.<p>

"And biting isn't very feminine."

Cutler finished sticking the strip of gaffer tape over Alex's mouth despite her attempts to squirm away. He checked that the tape holding her wrists and ankles to the chair was secure and then smoothed down the skirt of her dress and brushed her hair back from her face.

"You dressed up for him. They always did but he never cared. I'm not sure he even noticed.

"I hear you walked out on him. That's something he would never have stood for in the old days. He really has changed. You wouldn't have made it to the door alive back in the day."

Cutler laughed.

"You have no idea what he is, do you? Who he is.

"Maybe I should explain."

He walked over to the door and for a moment she thought he was leaving her there alone but he came back with another chair and sat down in front of her. She was torn between struggling to get free and wanting to hear what he had to say but the tape was too tight, she couldn't move. It was pointless exhausting herself, she'd wait, bide her time. He'd have to let her go eventually.

Cutler sat back in the chair, his fingers pressed together, hands in front of his face and although he was looking at her his blue eyes were distant. He wasn't seeing her, he was seeing his past and Hal, wondering just how much to tell her. He shrugged, he could tell her anything. Everything. It wasn't as if she'd have the chance to pass it on to anyone else, was she?

"Hal. Lord Hal. Harry. Mr Yorke. Call him what you like, it doesn't matter. He's a vampire. A five hundred year old dead man walking.

"I can see you don't believe me. Why would you? It's completely ridiculous! Especially the way he's been acting, I think he's been off blood and it's sent him mad. Well, he was off blood, I've started to deal with that. He had one glass, just one tiny glass and he was shaking. I thought he'd cry. Hal Yorke in that state? It's totally unbelievable. He's been hiding away somewhere, trying to be nice and good and... to be honest I have no idea what he's trying to be but I do know what he really is.

"How do I know?

"I'm one as well. He made me into a vampire in 1950 when I was 26 years old. He killed me. I lost everything because of him – my career, my wife, children, any chance of happiness. He took everything that made me human.

"'I've set you free' he said. Well he didn't. He made me an addict and a murderer and then he left me. That's not freedom, that's slavery. He was the one who killed Rachel – did you know that? He kills and he tortures, he's the cruellest creature I've ever known. Over and over and over again he destroys people. He'll kill you. Or he would if he had the chance.

"Who was Rachel? She was my wife. My perfect beautiful angel. And he killed her and he made me drink her blood. And now I'm going to do the same to him.

"He'll thank me for it in the end. Maybe not straight away, maybe he'll have to suffer first.

"Good.

"I want him to suffer and hurt and crawl like I did. I want him to endure the same pain he put me through, I want him to feel the agony and the hopelessness and the humiliation...

"And then I want him back.

"I want him back how he was, how he used to be."

Cutler was on his feet, pacing backwards and forwards in front of Alex. His voice had got louder and louder and he realised he was on the verge of losing control. He carried on pacing, staying silent for as long as it took to collect his thoughts.

He stopped in front of Alex. He had regained his composure and his voice was level.

"You think I'm mad. That I'm making all this up. I can see you rolling your eyes."

He smiled at her and then closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he let her see the monster – the fangs and the soulless black eyes and he saw her flinch. He moved closer to her, relishing the fear, hearing her heart race and watching the pulse beat in her neck. He got closer and closer, knowing she couldn't move, watching her eyes widen until his fangs touched her throat and just – only just – broke the skin. She screwed her eyes tightly shut not wanting to see what he did but he pulled away. He didn't need her blood – she just had to know that he was serious. He watched the tickle of red run down her neck, assessing how he felt. He wanted Hal to understand more than he wanted to drink. He could wait.

"You were never part of my plan. Hal wasn't either. I thought he was proper dead, he's been gone fifty years or more. Everyone thought the werewolf had killed him.

"Yes. Werewolves. They exist as well. I'll come back to them."

There was a noise from outside the cellar and Cutler went over to the door. One of his men was standing there with a large cardboard box.

"Put it over there." Cutler's voice was curt and the man was quick to obey. He put the box down close to where Alex was sat without looking at her and then hurried away.

Cutler opened the box and looked at the contents and then up at Alex, assessing. She shivered. There was something in his eyes, something cold and dead that was really starting to scare her. He smiled as he closed the box and sat down again facing Alex.

"Hal wasn't part of the plan but now I know he's not gone I need to have him at my side, to watch when I show the Old Ones what I can do. When they make me a part of their world. He needs to see what he did, what he made me into, how I can be everything he was and more. We can sit side by side with the Old Ones and be at the centre of everything. They'll listen to me then. I want him to see how much they will listen to me and I want him to be proud.

"I haven't told anyone exactly what I'm doing. Oh, I've told lots of people some things – not all true – but no one else knows it all. I can tell you though. It would be good to talk to someone after all these years."

He stood up again and carried on talking as he paced backwards and forwards across the cellar.

"The Old Ones are due here any day. They are the most powerful vampires, the very oldest. They haven't been to Britain for centuries but when they arrive your world will be finished. They will take over and then the vampires will rule and humans will just be food and slaves. They think it's that simple.

"But they are wrong. No one dares to tell them that but they have no idea of the world they want to take. They've been away from it for far too long, they don't understand how it works. That's where I come in. I will give them the world. I'll show them how to win.

"They think that humanity will just let them take over but they are so wrong. You'll fight back. Not all of you but enough and they don't even understand how you communicate. Twitter, Facebook – all that stuff. They don't have a clue! They are totally mired in the past; they have never moved on as the world changed around them. I mean they're coming by boat for Christ's sake! They could buy a fleet of planes but no... they're coming by sea.

"Even more insane than that is that they are starting the revolution in Barry Island. I mean... have you seen this place?

"There was one of them that understood. Wyndam. He had all the right ideas and I was working with him when he was finished. He was sent here to cover up the Box Tunnel Massacre. I suppose you've heard of it? I presume they must have newspapers in... wherever it is you're from. Those killings weren't done by some random madman, it was a vampire, two vampires actually, in a fit of pique but Wyndam and the police found a fall guy to take the blame. It's easy enough, especially as we had him shot and then we started to work on the story. He and I thought the same. He was curious and he understood how the modern world works. We were going to blame the werewolves but once Wyndam was gone I had to rethink how it could be done.

"His successor, Griffin, well he didn't get it. He was pretty useless. Old school. And not in a good way. He wouldn't listen; he thought it would all happen just like the old days when just a flash of fangs was enough to rule. That won't work now. He was always doomed to fail.

"Not. A. Clue.

"Ironically he was finished by a werewolf as well – the War Child's father – and that just served him right. After that I've had a pretty free rein. The Coroner was being useful until she started whining about her kids. I had to kill her – the noise was seriously getting on my nerves. Anyway, she'd already done her job and the reports were out there to show that the Box Tunnel killer was a cannibal. The next step was to leak more results – she'd planted some odd DNA findings. A few hints along with the back story I've been working on and one of the tabloids would soon have cried werewolf."

Cutler stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. He wasn't looking at Alex any more.

"It's all been building up to tonight. Full moon. The last full moon before the Old Ones arrive. Hal wasn't supposed to be here but he won't stop me. I know what has to be done and I can deal with him too. Nothing is going to stop me now.

"Certainly not him."

He turned back towards her and sat down again, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on hers. She couldn't look away. She wasn't sure if he was mad or not but his eyes glittered with the zeal of someone who knows beyond all doubt he is right – whatever the evidence might suggest.

"Tonight is the night that the world finds out about werewolves."

Cutler laughed.

"Oh there are suspicions already – the YouTube video, the articles and the forums, they all add to the argument but what people need is proof. Good old fashioned hard evidence. That's what they are going to get tonight.

"I've found a werewolf, befriended him. He's just an innocent really – I know his history, he's lost the only family he thought he had and he sent away the girl he loves. He needed someone to care, someone to listen to him and make him feel as though he mattered. I don't think that anyone has done that since his father was killed. It wasn't easy to get him to trust me – he hates vampires – but I've done it. He'll do what I ask and he thinks he's serving his world. Keeping it safe from the vampires, from the Old Ones – apart from ones like me of course. I've made him believe that not all of us are evil, that some of us are worth knowing. I can't see that lasting much longer.

"It was almost too easy."

Cuter looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I feel sorry for him really. All he wants is to make his Dad proud of him. He has no one, no one who really cares. If he had why would he keep coming back to me? I wonder if there is another way...

"No."

He shook his head, annoyed at his sudden weakness.

"I need him. I don't know if he'll survive tonight. If someone calls the police quickly enough they'll trap him. If it's before he changes back then I expect they'll shoot him like the animal he will be. If they can catch him, trap him or find him when he's human they'll put him in a cage in a lab and study him. Take him apart and see what makes him what he is.

"Whatever. Either way works for me.

"The club upstairs is going to be full tonight. I've made sure of that – cheap drinks, cheap admission, it's going to be irresistible. I've even set up competitions for those who tweet about their fabulous night out! Humans are so easy to manipulate, they'll do anything for a free drink. They'll all have their phones primed and ready...

"Tom thinks that this is where the Old Ones are gathering and that when the moon is full he will rip them apart, stop them talking over the world. Tear the vampire world apart. It wasn't what he wanted to do but I've been working on him, he'll do anything I ask of him now. He wanted to reason with them. Bless... As if that is even possible. I wonder if he will get away. Once he knows what he's done I have no idea how he'll react. He'll probably be a bit upset so I'll have to watch out for him. I can make sure he's caught though – all I have to decide is whether to hand him over or keep him. I think he might still be useful.

"He doesn't know the Old Ones haven't even landed yet and that he'll be faced with a room heaving with humans. I know once he's transformed he won't be able to stop himself and once we've set him lose then we'll run and leave him to wallow in the slaughter. I've made sure some of the doors are locked, they won't be able to get out and by the time some manage to escape there will be corpses everywhere. And every one of the survivors, every one of the dead will have a phone with pictures and film of a real live werewolf. If I'm really lucky there'll be film of some actual killing. I hope so – I can't hang around obviously – but that's what I want to see.

"I want to turn on the television in the morning and see a human being dismembered on the news. Torn apart by a real live werewolf. Dozens and dozens of bodies, grieving parents and devastated survivors. Humanity will be horrified and disbelieving – and best of all, you'll be desperate for help.

"Tomorrow werewolves will be all over the press, the TV, the internet. There will be panic – how many more of these creatures are out there?

"And then the Old Ones will arrive and they will present humanity with the answer. You've seen the danger – the werewolves will kill you all. But we can save you.

"Trust us.

"And you will.

"Then they can take over. I'm the only one who can give them that power.

"I can change your world."

Cutler leaned back and smiled, closing his eyes and imagining the scenes. How he would be feted and admired.

But first there were still things to be done, everything had to be perfectly planned and set up, no detail could be overlooked.

Cutler opened the cardboard box again and lifted out two large plastic bottles and a tangle of tubes. He put them down in front of Alex, her eyes following every move he made.

"Plastic. Convenient and cheap. Not like the old days when we used glass jars and rubber tubes. They were a nightmare to clean, of course, and they blocked but we managed. Nowadays it's so much easier and we'll just throw them away afterwards.

"Have you worked it out yet? Why you are here?"

Alex frantically shook her head. She had mostly figured out what was happening but she wouldn't let herself believe it. She might be wrong. She really hoped she was wrong.

"Then I'll spell it out. We'll open your throat and put the tubes in your veins and drain your blood into the containers. It keeps long enough that way and when Hal arrives – he's coming here later – he'll drink it. I wonder if he'll know it's yours. I didn't when it was Rachel's and I should have done. I knew everything about her, how her skin felt, how her hair smelled, even how her tears tasted but not her blood. How could I have done?"

He reached into the box again and picked up two scalpels, turning them so the wickedly sharp blades caught the light.

"It's time. I need to be prepared for tonight and your blood has to be ready. I can't risk Hal getting in the way – not that he will. Once he sees what I'm doing he'll understand. After all it's only what he did. So many times and not just to me. Once he's back to himself we can greet the Old Ones together. They'll welcome him. He's one of them.

"I won't do it though. It's a big night tonight and I don't want blood on my suit. Mark is an artist with a knife and I know he'll do a good job. It'll hurt but if you're lucky you'll pass out quickly although you don't look the fainting type.

"It's necessary that you are still alive to drain as much blood as possible, it's not that I want to hurt you. I don't really care enough either way. You're just here so I can get to Hal. Collateral damage. It's his fault this is happening to you.

"Such a shame you wasted your good frock on him but at least you know you're part of something that is changing the very world you live in. A day that will live on in legends.

"That's what I'm doing.

"I'm making history."


End file.
